Date: Fri, 20 May 2011 17:18:45 -0700 (PDT) From: Paul Vanden Boogard Subject: Role Reversal 9 (Final Chapter) I pulled the plug from his ass the next morning, sending it with him to be washed after I unchained him from beneath the dining room table with instructions to flush out his asshole. I filled the dog dish with scrambled eggs and sliced Italian sausage, and allowed him a dish of water as I had my breakfast and drank my coffee. It was satisfying to watch him push his face into the bowl to eat, his asshole gaping as he stuck it high into the air, especially because he had done the same to me. Though his ass cheeks were relatively bare, a dark circle of hair encircled his sphincter, and his thighs and his legs were still hairy. His balls, too, were speckled with short, dark brown hairs. He was getting shaved, but not until I managed to grow the hair on my body back. I would leave the hair on his head, though I would keep it fairly short, so I had something besides his ears to grab. My head was staying shaved. It had shamed and humiliated me when he had removed it, reducing me to the status of his slave. But when I woke up this morning and looked in the mirror, I had a completely different perception of it. Back in control, it now made me look threatening and powerful. His ass cheeks were still deep red in color, with dark purple splotches here and there where the whip had brought out welts. I was pretty sure that it was still sore, and it would be very painful if I whipped him again, or took a paddle to his ass. Just to satisfy my curiosity, I gave it a hard, broad handed slap. He cringed onto the floor and yelped, and when he finally lifted his head up, I pushed it into his bowl. "Am I taking it far enough now, dick head?" I pushed his head into the bowl again as I let go and walked away, bits of scrambled egg squeezing out of the side of the dish to fall onto the floor. "Lick up your spill." I had every intention of paying him back for my last two weeks of humility, and doing so far beyond even his expectations. Roaming into the bedroom, I discarded my t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, pulling on a clean shirt and a pair of loose fitting jeans before slipping my feet into a pair of slippers. "Get in here, bitch," I bellowed. He came down the hallway in a hurry, wincing as he walked. Before he had a chance to react to my glare, I grabbed the collar and pulled him sharply back onto his hands and knees. "You think the same rules don't apply to you, shit head? How dare you stand without my permission?" I slapped his ass again, eliciting a short yelp, then shoved his face to the side with my foot. "Get the fuck out of the way and then clean this up." He moved to the side to let me pass, still moaning faintly. I could feel my cock start to rise inside my boxers. I could sense him moving behind me as I returned down the hallway, cradling my dirty clothes with one arm as he crawled awkwardly to the laundry room. As soon as I stepped into the dining area, I snapped at him again. "Get in here, cunt!" I heard the hamper lid close as he appeared through the doorway. As soon as he came astride me, I stepped on the back of his neck, crushing his face onto the floor. "You mean to tell me that you finished your eggs, but didn't even bother to clean up after me first?" My breakfast dishes were still on the table, his bowl and the floor around it empty. I waited for his reply. "Yes, Master," he forced out, his jaw pressed hard against the tile. Lifting my foot from his neck, I applied it sideways to his ass, propelling him forward. I didn't need to give the command. He knew what he needed to do. He stumbled forward, then rose to his knees to start pulling the dishes from the table. If he had not stood when I had called him into the bedroom, I would have allowed him to stand for this task, but decided that this was a fitting punishment. It was then that I heard the knock at the front door. Startled, I peered out the tiny window, catching a glimpse of Larry as he stood waiting outside. He had said he was going to come back in a couple of weeks, and I had forgotten all about it. I pulled the door open, seeing the look of surprise that crossed his face. "Mark!" Without a moment's hesitation, I reached out and grabbed him by the collar, dragging him into the house and cocking my fist back as I kicked the door closed. "Wait, wait," he threw up his hands in defense. "It wasn't my idea." "But you helped him." "All I did was bring him the stuff he told me to get." He had done more than that. He had helped my father subdue me. "Oh? So why are you here now? So he can pay you back? Or did he promise to let you fuck me." I didn't need an answer. I could see it in his face. I slugged him, sending him sprawling to the floor. Stomping over to the toolbox, I pulled out a length of rope, approaching him before he could pick himself up from the floor. When he started to struggle against me, I cocked back my fist once more, then grabbed his wrists as he brought his hands up to cover his face, dropping my right knee onto his stomach and knocking the wind out of him. Binding his wrists, I dragged him across the hardwood floor and onto the carpet of the living room, hoisting him up to heave him over the back of the couch. Climbing over it, I pulled the rope taught, then tied it to the foot in front. Before he could roll himself over to the front I was on top of him, unbuckling his pants and dragging them down around his ankles. When I glanced up I saw my Dad standing frozen in the kitchen, watching. "What the fuck are you doing? This isn't any of your business. Get back to work." He ducked his head and returned to clearing the table, casting sidelong glances at us with any opportunity he had. Tugging Larry's shirt out from beneath him, I pulled it over his head, exposing him from his shoulders to his calves. "Keep fighting and I'll tie your ankles, too," I growled, reaching between his legs to squeeze his cock and balls together. "Get over here, bitch," I called to my slave. He rounded the couch on his hands and knees. "Stand up and stroke your cock," I commanded. Spitting in the crack of Larry's ass, I started stroking his asshole, Larry protesting all the while. "You see this little fuck hole?" I said to my slave. He eyes darted frantically toward me and away, and he nodded. "Well, guess what? My little pussy slave is going to fuck it." I could see the ghost of a smile cross my dad's lips as he hung his head and nodded, his cock growing in his hand as he pulled up and down on it. Larry began to struggle more frantically. "Hold him in place," I directed, then snatched up the bottle of lube as he obeyed. Squirting a puddle in my hand, I lubed up my slaves cock, using long, slow, stimulating strokes. "There, now push it in that hole," I said when he was good and hard. Taking it in one hand, he guided it into Larry's asshole, Larry groaning loudly at the intrusion. I stepped back to watch. "That's right, slut, fuck him like a little whore. Do you realize what you put me through for the last two weeks?" I directed my attention at Larry. He was moaning painfully, unable to answer. "Yeah, that's right," I said, urging my dad on. "Slide that cock deep in that hole." Stepping up behind him, I reached between his legs and started lightly massaging his balls as he pushed himself in and out. My own cock was hard and straining to rise in my pants, stuck down the side of my right leg. I wanted nothing more than to pull it out and slide it up his ass right then and there. My hand still slick with lube, I stuck two fingers in his hole to stimulate his prostrate. He started groaning in ecstasy. "That's right. Blow your load in the pussy, bitch. Show him what it's like to be a cunt." "Yes, Master," he answered, his eyes closed as he ground his hips back and forth. "Oh, yes, Master. I could fell his sphincter tighten around my fingers, throbbing as his climax grew. "Yeah. Fuck that bitch." He was grunting in short, little grunts that grew louder and louder, switching suddenly to long, throaty moans, his cock driving in harder with each thrust. At last he drove it in hard, issuing one long groan as he released his load. Grabbing his collar, I pulled him back, then leaned over Larry, who was panting and moaning piteously. "How was it, bitch?" Wrapping an arm around his thighs, I flipped him over the back of the couch, stepping around it to position him so he was lying on it on his back. "There. Now come and suck him off," I told my slave. Though still high from his orgasm, he obeyed, dropping back to his hands and knees to crawl around. Once he took Larry's cock in his mouth, I dropped my pants and lubed up my own, straddling his legs so I could fuck him from behind. Larry's face was still covered by his shirt, but he started writhing with pleasure, my dad's hot, wet mouth riding up and down his cock. It was only a few minutes before his whole body tensed and my dad stopped to swallow the cum that shot into his mouth. With that, I pounded my dad's ass hard, thinking of nothing but the feelings I was experiencing with my cock, building my orgasm until I unloaded with such an intensity it made me shudder. Grabbing him by the hair, I pulled him off of Larry's cock and stuck my own in his mouth for him to suck clean. "Get under the table and stay there," I said to him, pointing. When he crawled away, I untied Larry's hands, then sat on the couch until he pulled himself together. His face was flush with embarrassment and degradation, but I could tell he was angry at me too. "Now you know what I went through," I held his gaze steady when he turned to look me. Unable to say anything, he merely nodded. "How much does my dad owe you for that," I indicated the toolbox and all of the equipment inside. "Nine hundred and fifty six buck." Holy shit! "Come back next weekend and I'll have it for you." He glared at me dolefully." "I'm not going to do anything to you." He blushed and turned away. "Okay." Glancing once at my Dad still crouched under the table, he straightened his shirt and headed for the door. Rising off the couch, I followed him, locking it behind him. "And now, what to do with you," I said as I strolled back into the dining area. My dad ventured out to humble himself at me feet, licking first at my slippers, then at the exposed skin of my ankle. "Go get the butt plug. Since you've already been fucked, it might as well go back into its rightful place. "Yes, Master." He seemed eager to comply, crawling quickly over to retrieve it from the toolbox where he had put it after washing it earlier. Turning him around, I first felt stroked his asshole with my fingers, making sure it was still slick enough to accept the plug without more lubrication. He arched his back and spread his legs. "There you go, bitch," I slid it inside. "Thank you, Master," he spun around to lick at my feet again. "Now go get a garbage bag and follow me." I waited as he obeyed, leading him into the bedroom. In the last two weeks he had removed all of my things and replaced them with his own again. Picking up his wallet from the top of the dresser, I slid it in my back pocket and sat back in the chair. "I want everything in here that's yours in that garbage bag." He gave me a distraught glance, but slowly moved to do as I told him. I knew that all of the items held some meaning for him, especially the picture of him and my Mom. "Not that," I said as he picked it up. "Give that to me." Once the rest of his things were in the bag, I held out my hand for him to give it to me. "This goes on the kitchen counter," I instructed, handing the portrait back to him. "I want you to see the type of person you'll never be again." I knew he blushed, though he ducked his head. He followed me as I swept out of the room and watched me as I went out the back door to throw the bag with all of his things in into the garbage can, removing that little bit of who he was from the house. By the time I entered, he had set the picture on the counter and was sitting on his feet just to the side of it. "Now go clean my bedroom. Completely. Under the bed, behind the dresser, under the table and chair, everything. If I find one scrap of dust or one little dirt mark, I'm going to beat you like you've never been beaten before." His face flushed beet red. "Yes, Master." Getting another garbage bag, I started a circuit of the living room, pulling his plaques and awards off the shelves, and anything else that was uniquely his. These followed the other bag out into the garbage can. Whatever had been my mother's remained. It was going to take some time, but eventually this house was going to be strictly mine, with all traces of his former ownership and occupancy removed. He had wanted to be my slave? Well, that's just what he was going to be. "Get in here, bitch," I yelled from the kitchen. I heard him scramble down the hallway, watching as his naked ass bobbed around the corner and pausing to look for me. Spotting me, he came quickly over, glancing up to find that I had pulled out my cock. "Down," I commanded as he opened his mouth for me to piss in. He clamped his mouth shut, surprised, but put his head to the floor. Letting loose, I peed all over his head and his back. "Lick that up, then go finish your task. When you're done with that, scrub this floor. All of it." "Yes, Master," he responded meekly. As I walked past him, I noticed that his cock was rock hard and pressing against his stomach. I went back outside, finding a cool and blustery October day, the wind blowing the leaves from nearby trees to fall like giant snowflakes all over the yard. The gardens were in need of raking, as was the lawn. I turned back toward the house, peering through the window into the darkness beyond. It was all my responsibility, now. Maintenance, repairs, expenses...whatever came with owning a house. And whatever came with owning a slave. I wasn't afraid that I wouldn't be able to keep the job that I had been offered. I smiled. I used the wind to help me rake, starting at the house and working back to the stone wall, eventually chasing all of the leaves out of the gate and down into the ravine. The sky was blue, dotted heavily with solid looking puffs of individual clouds that moved at a slow march, offering moments of sunshine as well as shade. Discarding the rake, I brought out the shears and began pruning, knowing I needed to go in and check on my slave, but anxious to get some of the yard work done. "Where are you, cunt," I roared as I walked in the back door. I didn't' see him in the living room or kitchen, and met him halfway coming down the hall. He cringed to the side as I strolled past. "Are you done in here, bitch?" "Not yet, Master." I could tell he had been working hard at it. The bed was neatly made, and the furniture had all been wiped down. Even my personal items had been moved back into the room from upstairs, placed as nearly as he could remember them. I didn't say anything, but walked briskly from the room again and into the kitchen, my slave fast on my heels. He had known that I was going to check on the floor, making sure he had licked up the puddle of piss, and was fortunate that I found it satisfactory. "Finish my bedroom, then make me lunch. I'll feed you when I am ready." "Yes, Master." Taking a soda from the fridge, I returned to my own work, pausing in it an hour later to go inside and eat, a sandwich waiting on the table with dish of cottage cheese and a hot cup of coffee. My slave scrubbed the floor while I ate. Wiping my face, I returned to the bedroom, giving it a critical inspection. Opening each drawer, I found everything neatly arranged. The entire room was immaculate. Grabbing my coffee, I slipped my boots back on and went to relax in the yard for a while. I could hear the voices of the neighbors next door through the thick stand of cedars, but it was impossible to see them. I glanced up at their two story house and the one window that had a view of the back yard. Well, part of the back yard, and very little of it during the summer months with the immense maple tree blocking its view. I knew the Borgson's fairly well. A little older than my dad, they kept to themselves pretty much, though they were friendly if you happened to run into them. The wind picked up and sent a chill though me, so I got up to move around a bit, draining the last of my coffee. Going to the back door, I rapped on it with the cup, waiting until my slave cracked the door open before I thrust it in for him to take. "Bring it to me full in half an hour." I didn't wait for his response, but went back to finish my pruning. The wind hadn't settled at all, and the clouds had crowded together, leaving only a few open gaps of sunshine. I was happy that Mr. Rees thought so highly of me to give me a recommendation. It took away some of the hurt I had felt at being let go so abruptly. I realized that deep down I had been angry at him, and had thought that firing me was uncalled for, but now I reconsidered. If he had truly been happy with my performance, then letting me go had really been just a business decision. My naked slave had covered half the distance toward me before I noticed his approach, and enjoyed watching his cock and balls swinging back and forth as he walked. I glanced briefly up at the neighbor's window, but could just see the edge of it, and knew that both I and my dad were out of its line of sight. Taking the coffee cup from him, I handed him the shears. "Set that on the table by the back door." I watched as he walked away, too, appreciating the tight muscles of his ass and legs and the way he kept his head bowed. I knew that he was happy now, that I had raised my Mastery of him to a height that satisfied him. I could feel my cock swelling in my pants and sipped my coffee, glancing once around the yard before following him in to feed him. Baking some pizza rolls, I took a few to snack on myself, then dumped the rest in his bowl. As a treat, I poured the water from his dish and filled it with beer, downing the last quarter of the can. As I rose to go back outside, I noticed the muddy footprints I had left on the freshly scrubbed floor, and the dirt that had fallen from my shoes. "Clean up this dirt," I indicated the path that I had left, then retrieved my coffee before stepping out the door. I wandered the yard, checked the condition of the stone wall, finished my coffee, then went back to work. There were several things that I needed to do. One was to check our stock of food and go grocery shopping if needed. Another was to put the storm windows up for winter, and make sure that the cars were ready. I wanted my slave to go through all of the junk in the office upstairs as well. Over the past few years it had become more of a storage room, and could hardly be called an office anymore. Except for a few items, I considered the rest of it trash, and I didn't want it in my house. I also wanted that room. It was a good task for him to start on right now, but he would need supervision. I looked at the rose bush I was pruning and snipped off a couple more twigs, glancing up at the just as the wind puffed in my face. Setting down the sheers, I went back into the house to turn on the television, my dad still busy on his knees in the kitchen. I located the weather channel, and made my decision when I saw that the next day was going to be warmer. Going back out the door, I returned the shears to the garage and brought my coffee cup back in with me, this time kicking my shoes off at the back door. My dad was wiping up the floor for a third time. I paused to push his head to the floor with my foot. "Are those my boot marks on the floor?" His eyes focused on the dark smear in front of his nose. "Yes, Master." "That's my floor, too." I let the idea of it sink in to him, that not only was I taking control of him, I was taking everything. "Do you understand me, bitch? "Yes, Master." "You're not my dad anymore. You're my slave. I'm going to own you like I now own this house and everything in it. From here on out, you own nothing." I could see his eyes widen, amazed that I planned to take it that far. "Yes, Master," he replied almost pleadingly. He wanted it as much as I did. "As far as I'm concerned, you're no better than that dirt mark on the floor." I paused to indicate that I expected a response, glancing beneath his naked body to see his cock slowly swelling and rising. "Yes, Master." "The rest of it you can clean with your tongue." "Yes, Master," he sounded almost eager to obey. I lifted my foot and he turned his face onto the floor, sticking out his tongue to lick my boot print from the tile. Leaving him there, I sat on the couch and started examining the contents of the tool box. There were a number of interesting items beyond the ropes and handcuffs and ball gag, including various dildos, a set of tit clamps, a selection of cock rings, and an open mouth gag. There were other bondage items as well, pieces that would come in handy at one time or another. There was nothing in there that suited my immediate purpose, though. But that was alright, I could fix that. I went to the basement to rummage around the nuts and bolts, finally finding an eye bolt. Trundling up the stairs I stepped up behind my slave, his naked ass stuck in the air. Commanding him to hold still, I turned the eye bolt into the bottom of the butt plug still firmly planted in his asshole, tugging at it to make sure it was secure. While he returned to licking up the floor, I retrieved the dog leash and clipped it onto the eyebolt. "Let's go, bitch," I said as he finished cleaning the floor, giving the leash a little tug. I chased him up the stairs on his hands and knees, keeping the leash taught to control his speed. Entering the office, the first thing I had him do was move all of the boxes off of the chair so that I could sit down. Then, the leash in my hand, I had him open each box to verify what was inside. The Christmas ornaments and decoration I told him to set aside, but as we got into boxes of old clothes and knick knacks and outdated electronics, I had him push them out the door and into the hallway. In fact, there was little that I kept, except the furniture. There was a small table, the chair that I sat in, and a small office desk with another wooden chair and a small desk lamp. Pulling out my keys, I removed the cuffs from his wrists and ankles. "Stack all this shit up by the front door." He knew what I was doing as I backed the truck up the sidewalk and loaded the boxes into it. Though neither of us would probably have ever used any of it, a large part of his life was going out the front door. The next thing I had him do was empty out the bedroom upstairs. All of my old clothes, toys, shoes...everything that no longer meant anything to me was stuffed into boxes and bags and put on the truck as well. Then, thinking twice, I dug the two garbage bags of his belongings out of the garbage can and added them to the pile. I would take the truck to work the next day, and drop it all off at the Salvation Army on my way home. The bedroom stripped clean, I had him move the furniture from the office into it. It was a fairly small space to pack it all into, but I managed. "Go pull the plug and bathe, then make my supper." Unhooking the leash, I slapped him hard on the ass to send him on his way. Wandering into the kitchen, I removed a pork steak and a large baking potato and set them on the counter, along with a can of green beans and some refrigerator rolls for my slave to prepare. It was time to relax, so I popped open a beer and turned on the TV, sorting through the items in the tool box. When my slave emerged from the bathroom I called him over to me, then had him kneel up with his hands behind his back as I tightened on a set of nipple clamps, turning each one until he winced uncomfortably. "What happened to your lacy little black skirt?" I asked. "It's still in the drawer, Master." "Go put it on." "Yes, Master." I did little TV watching. Instead, I was enjoying the moment, watching my little slave bitch as he moved about between the kitchen and the dining room in his short, sheer skirt, the gold chain bouncing on his chest between the nipple clamps, my cock out and hard in my hands as I causally stroked it and drank my beer. My little slave bitch. What a wonderful thing that was. He would call his work the next morning and apologize, telling them that personal matters had made him unavailable for the job, and to please mail his final check. Then he would be bound wrists and ankles to the eyehook he had installed beneath the dining room table until I returned, the butt plug in its proper place up his ass. If he peed himself, he would lick it up when I got home, then scrub the floor before making my supper. Tonight he would get the scraps from my plate, and whatever else I decided to give him. Sitting down at the table, I pulled out his wallet and opened it, considering the contents. The only two things I kept out of it were his driver's license and his social security card, and I cut up the debit and credit cards. Once they were paid off, they would be cancelled. He would never have a need for them again. The wallet itself was in good shape, and for a moment I considered hanging onto it until mine wore out, then reconsidered and threw that away as well. Nothing of his. Regardless of what happened, the rest of his life would be spent as my slave, cleaning my house, preparing my meals, and being my slut and my whore. In time, as I could afford it, I would replace all of the furniture and buy all new clothes, even replacing the dishes and cookware anything else that he had once owned. But he would be happy. He would be used and abused and whipped and punished and degraded and humiliated, treated like shit and taught to worship and adore his Master. "You never intended to keep me as a slave, did you," I said to him one night several weeks later as I relaxed to read a magazine, his lips around my cock where they belonged. He shook his head, his focus never diverting from my cock. "You did that to teach me, to show me what a "Master" really was." His shoulders cringed a bit, but he nodded. He knew that he had to answer me truthfully, but he also knew that if his answer displeased me I would punish him. "Well, I suppose I should thank you, then," I said as I set aside the magazine aside to enclose both of my fists in his hair, shoving my cock deep into his mouth and then proceeding to fuck it. I didn't need to worry if he gagged or choked or drooled or struggled to breathe. All I needed to worry about was how my cock felt as it slid in and out of that hot, wet hole, and how intense my orgasm was as my cock erupted into his throat. His face was wet with his tears when I was done, and he groveled and kissed and licked my feet to thank me for the honor of having his face fucked by me. He was being so good I decided to reward him, rolling to lie on my stomach so he could pay homage to my asshole with his lips and his tongue and his face, my magazine propped open on the arm rest so I could continue to read. When at last I finished the article I told him to pee and get ready for bed, sending him bounding for the back hall closet so he could drag his plastic pee pail out with his teeth, smiling happily as he squatted over it to relieve himself. Clamping it back in his teeth, he set it in the corner, then made his way up to the upstairs bathroom, his leash bouncing on the steps between his legs and jiggling the butt plug up his ass. By the time he returned to kiss my feet again, I had pulled on my pajama bottoms and brushed my teeth and was standing in front of my closet choosing my clothes for work the next day, which he took and placed neatly on my chair. "Kneel up." He obeyed, forming his hands into fists and holding them tight to his stomach so the chain wouldn't interfere if I chose to fondle him. I gave one of his nipples a hard pinch before reaching to slide my hand down and around his hard prick and cup his hairless balls. "Are you a happy fuck hole?" I slipped a finger up alongside the butt plug. "Yes, Master," he breathed heavily. Taking the leach in my hand, I gave it a little tug. "Come." He preceded me back up the stairs, then followed me into the spare room, which was now my playroom. In the center of the room I had installed a post to which I had attached a series of rings and a large dildo, in front of which lay a soft mat. Removing the butt plug, I had my slave impale himself on it. "There you go, bitch. I want my pussy fucked by that dildo." "Yes. Master. Thank you, Master, he ground his hips down onto it." "Would my little pussy like to cum?" "Oh, Please Master." "Stroke my little slave dick, then." He grabbed his still hard cock and began to pump on it as he drove his asshole on and off the dildo. His orgasm grew quickly, and in moments, spurts of cum were flying through the air. Placing my foot on his shoulder, I pushed him back onto the dildo. "Stay." Removing a length of rope from the pegboard on the wall, I bound him in place for the night. He would sleep on his knees, his asshole impaled by the dildo, his face resting in his own cum that was spread across the mat. He would be grateful for it in the morning, and eager to thank me and serve me.