Date: Sat, 9 Mar 2024 19:00:57 -0500 From: Robert Halstead Subject: Breaking Me In 56 Chapter 56. I crashed on the floor in the living room. Bobby had covered the carpet with some kind of tarp so I wouldn't get the carpet soiled by my grungy body after a hard night doing wet and dirty work. I didn't wake up until Bobby was there standing over me and spitting on me. Nice way to be woken up. Holding a hand up as if I would be able to block the spit coming down on me, I managed to open my tired crusty eyes. "What a sad sight you are, baby! Could you imagine having to do that every single day, day in and day out, and get paid barely enough money to live on?" Oh great! Philosophy early in the morning before I have my coffee. "It would be unimaginable, Master." "Well a lot of people are living like that. So count yourself lucky when you find yourself being undervalued or even mistreated. You're still far better off than most of the people in the world who have to work menial jobs. Do you understand, boy?" "Yes, Master, this slave understands." "Good boy. So tell me what it was like for you last night. What was going through your mind?" I hesitate, not because I'm afraid of being punished, but because I have so many mixed thoughts about it that I don't know where to begin. "Um. . .Master. . . there are so many different thoughts." "Continue . . . tell me one of them." "Angry at the way I was being treated." "Why be angry? You're a slave. You were treated like a slave." "Yes, Master, and I was a real slave. Forced to labor hard, back-breaking labor, and being completely discounted and ignored. Just told to work and I hated it. Even when I got home and you weren't going to let me take a shower. Made to sleep on a tarp on the ground." "Well then, that's good. Keep that in mind when you start resisting anything. You are my slave. My true slave. And I love the one I possess. I love you as my slave, but I also love you as a classmate, as a friend, as a kind of brother. But that doesn't mean I'm going to be easy on you. If anything, I'll be even more demanding. For example, this: whenever I am instructing you about what it means to be my slave, your eyes should be firmly fixed on . . . . my feet. Begin that immediately now." I like the sight of His feet. No problem there and it also tickles my submissive place. "Permission to ask a question, Master?" "Yes. What is it?" "Do I still have my safe words?" "Answer my question: does a true slave have safe words?" "Nnnno, Master," I say while tightening my fists. This is going to be too much. "Nonetheless, I'll break the pattern. You still have your safe words. For now" "Thank You, Master." "Mind you, I'll expect you to expand your "yellow's," to take much more than you think you can take." I tremble within. I understand. The best way a slave like me can give pleasure to the Master is to expand my limits. The Master will naturally know this has happened. I can't always manage it, but I'm trying. Bobby will get off on realizing He has that much power over me to decide how much he's going to be able to hurt me (or maybe "give me pain" sounds better). "Now crawl over here and lick my feet until I tell you to go take a shower." Finally! Contact with Bobby's body starts the day off well, even if it's just to use my tongue to lick His feet. I'm not there long before He orders me into the shower. I crawl there so I can stay in the space better. "Take your time," He tells me. "Get clean everywhere." And so I luxuriate in a nice warm shower with scented body wash and a loofah. This makes up for all the miserably wet things I was wearing in the restaurant dishwashing room. Yuck. I spend a lot of time soaking my cage, but that's always hard to keep clean and has to be periodically removed for cleaning. The last time Bobby cleaned it, He restrained my hands so I wouldn't touch myself down there—the private parts that no longer belong to me. My caged dick and my balls belong to Bobby. He can do what He wishes with them. I turn off the water. He's right there watching. He hands me a clean fluffy towel to dry myself with. When I get out from the bathroom, Bobby is sitting there holding a strap in His hands. He smiles at me and it makes me feel all warm inside. He points to the floor and I kneel down before Him. "So I'm curios about something. I was planning to give you ten lashes with this strap, but first I want to know: Do you need me to thrash you? Will it help you realize what you are?" Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. The impulse answer was "yes" and I couldn't believe how stupid I was, admitting I need a whipping to help me keep in the mindset of a slave. "Then move a chair into the center of the room and then bend over the back of the chair offering your ass to my strap like a good slave." I want to back out. I want to pick up and run away. I want to jerk off just thinking about what was going to happen but I don't have access to my dick. I do what He tells me and then I'm there, bent over, and the Master has total control of my ass. And the first lash hurts a lot more than I thought it would hurt and I cry out after even just one lash. He lays His strap across my ass at a rapid pace so before I know it's all over and my face is as much a mess as my ass. When it's over I put the chair back and then bow before Bobby and kiss His feet as a way of thanking Him for beating His slave. And I can't believe how much that spanking just hurt. It feels like the pain is going to eat me alive. I focus as much attention as I can to His feet, to licking and sucking and mouthing the way He likes, and it grounds me. It helps me realize what I've become. Bobby's slave. Owned. Collared. Caged. Obedient. OCCO could be what He brands on me some day. "I'm glad you know what you are," He tells me. "I've lined up three appointments for you already. Don't forget that they're each paying $500 to have you for the afternoon. Make sure they get their money's worth." Shit. Let me crumble to the ground in humiliation. Bobby always knows how to talk to me to make me feel more and more the slave. The inferior slave. That's always been true, right from the beginning. "and don't worry, boy, they know that you only take your Master's piss and they have to use condoms." Down I sink into my slavery. The first, Monday at 2 pm. So nervous. So resentful at times. Nice man. Working from home. Thirties. Buzzed. He stood there watching me take my clothes off, the told me to present, arms behind head. Walked all around and touched in several places. "You're trembling, boy. Let my hands calm you down." and he runs his hands everywhere and damn it sure does feel good. I start taking deep breaths. "So now you walk around the place and you'll see what needs to be done to make this place sparkle again. Get at it, slave. If I call you for something, you come running and kneel down before me. Otherwise, keep working. And by the way, cameras are everywhere. I'm recording you all the time you're here so I can keep enjoying you as a slave." Wow! I ended up getting intimately acquainted with all the private parts of His anatomy. Each time He called me He wanted me to eat some part of Him eagerly. His toes. His armpits. His taint. His balls. His asshole. but I called yellow for that and he cursed me out but didn't make me do anything to His ass. He hardly talked to me at all. Just the names of the body parts He wanted me to service. And finally, before I left, He fucked me. And He was really good at it, especially at stretching me and getting me to relax. So finally when He took my ass, I willingly gave myself to him with all my heart and soul. And He told me I was the best. Bobby was so pleased with me that He took me into town to get pizza. Him walking me, me collared, through public off-campus streets. I finally stopped freaking out about being in public with my Master (as if everyone knew that just by looking at us—NOT!) I just went wherever He told me to go. Did whatever He wanted me to do. Spoke if He asked a question or nodded when someone else asked me a question, which happened often. Examples: --Someone managed to separate me from Bobby far enough that he whispered to me, "Are you okay? Are you being held against your control? Are you being trafficked?" No kidding. And do you how I answered him? Me: "No. It's HIM who's being trafficked. I'm just his handler." At first the guy freaked but finally he got the joke and we cracked up together. -- There was one girl with black lipstick and fingernails who kept looking at my collar (which is really very beautiful) while putting her hand to her neck. It seemed like she was wishing my collar could be on her. Good luck to her, I thought. --One guy maybe a year or two older than me and well built without overdoing it actually asked Bobby if he could ask me a question. Bobby nodded, of course. So anyway the guy came right up to me and touched my collar lightly then asked, "What does it mean?" I looked to Bobby. He nodded. I could answer that question. I answered the question by asking another question: "What kind of a message is it giving you? What is it making you think of?" Good questions. Even Bobby had hint of a smile on his face. "Hmmmm," the guy said, rubbing his chin, "You report to him" (pointing to Bobby). . . . . "You are bound to him somehow . . . . . . You can't just walk off and do whatever you want. Am I right?" he asks me. I nod and smile. He turns to Bobby and asks him his name. "Bobby Wilson-- listed under "Bobby" not "Robert." Text me. Don't call." "Got it, the guy said. "Name's Kris. With a K." Little did I know what would come of that. ---Here's one more, and this one really got to me the most. This one fellow, I'd say in his late 60's, neatly dressed, heavy set comes up and faces both of us. "Bobby, I've heard about you from friends over at Hank's place (the Inferno). I see that you've connected with the type of person you were looking for. I'm happy for you. Please take me seriously. If there is ever anything you need to make your lives a bit better, please let me know." Bobby thanked him and looked at me, so I thanked him as well. And with that, he walked away. Bobby laid down the law immediately. "I will handle that. I can't forbid you to think about it, but I wish you would just leave it up to me and that's that. We will never discuss this again." Damn, he was resolute about that! So much so that I even doubt the "author" of this tale will bring it up again. Every life has got to have its own mysteries. That's what I think. --The next one was the wildest. One of the seniors who knows Bobby had a party while his parents were in Europe. Clean up needed on Sunday morning. It's not a disaster scene. Just ordinary mess. It will take two guys. Immediately, I thought of Condon and so did Bobby. We were both sent. It was hot working around the place, both of us naked and caged. The guy, who called himself Zippy, was cool and two of his friends were hanging around watching us and yes, we were both on our knees with one of their cocks in our mouth at different times. It took a little less than three hours to get all the work done. I went to take the garbage out but one of Zippy's friends stopped me and took it out himself. Seems they didn't want anyone parading around naked in the neighborhood. Especially while wearing a collar and a chastity cage. (Even if they knew what it is). One thing that pissed me off having all those guys watching us was that we couldn't play with each other a bit, even just a little kiss. We were never alone together. I don't think they planned it that way. I think it was just a coincidence. I don't think they ever even thought of the possibility of the two twinks playing with each other like a couple of fags. While we were there, one of their neighbors just happened to have an urgent question and came over to ask about it. I think it was just an excuse to look at the nude twinks. And in addition to that, Condon had cane welts across his ass and my ass was still pretty red after a spanking I got that morning. He hung around a long time talking to Zippy's friend Patrick (yes, the same Patrick who whipped my ass not too long ago) and eyeing me, so I kept bending over with my ass facing him. I know I'm going to have to pay for that some time soon if Bobby decides to have Patrick thrash me again sometime. Oh, and I forgot to mention this: the neighbor asked Zippy how he managed to get our services, but when Zippy mentioned the $500 fee, the guy got pissed and shouted, "So they're nothing more than a couple of high class whores!" and had to be talked down. He left eventually, having lost all interest to look at us any longer. We got finished by noon and the guys had pizzas delivered and we all hung out, (us still naked) and ate pizza and drank wine and even passed a couple joints around. These guys were cool as hell. Eventually they got naked too and we all played around. I think maybe Patrick put the moves on Zippy or his buddy, but I don't know how that turned out. He ended up fucking me at the end and wasn't even rough with me. He let me just enjoy it, but made it a point to tell me that he's looking forward to the next time Bobby has him punish me. And to tell the truth, despite the fact that it will hurt like hell, I'm looking forward to seeing him again too. Little did I know what was coming down the pike at me, full speed ahead. #### Please make a donation to Nifty, no matter how small. Our contributions help keeping this wonderful site alive. donate@nifty.org Please write me and let me know what you like the most about this story. subkodak25@gmail.com. Here are the other stories I have posted, with the dates where you can find them: The first five should be read in order: The Alex Chronicles 9/25/2022 Sweet Subjugation 1/15/2023 Brandon's Bosses 4/3/2023 Brandon's Brothers 5/19/2023 Total Subjugation 5/25/2023 These stories are stand-alone Tommy Loves His Sub 8/17/2023 Training Toby 12/31/2023 Breaking Me In (in progress)