Small Town Slave Boys Chapter 4

Small Town Slave Boy Reboot

This story is a reboot of the original Small Town Slave Boy story.

This story will be found in the gay/authoritarian subcategory. Despite being tangentially connected to the College Magic Series, there are no supernatural elements in this story.

Dylan Morgan is the son of a homophobic minister named Craig Morgan. He is one of four children in the Morgan household, not including their cousin Kieran who came to stay with the family when he lost his parents at the age of 12. This story tells of his life and how he became a slave to his best friend Kurt Groth. He has a sister Elizabeth who is seven years older than him, a brother Donald who is four years older than him and another brother Thomas who is two years younger than him. His cousin Kieran is one year older than him.

Dylan is a small boy and will grow to be a small man. He is a cute kid, but he's skinny and lacks any sense of self-worth. He also has a small penis, which is a source of embarrassment for him. Unlike his brothers and his sister, he is gay. Much of his trauma and lack of self-esteem come from the fact that his authoritarian father made it clear from his words and his actions that he hated gay people and thought they were tools of Satan.

This story is mostly told from Dylan's point of view, but occasionally the point of view shift to another character. The text will always tell you when there has been a shift in POV.

There will be scenes of dominance and submission, as well as some bondage and domination, and a little light masochism, but this is not a story of objectification, and it's not a one-sided story. It's a love story with D/s and BDSM elements.

There will be some non-consensual scenes in later chapters, non-consensual in the sense that the main characters will choose to engage in some activities to avoid being outed too early, but the activities between the principal characters are consensual.

For those who appreciate this kind of story read on; others be forewarned.

This story is fantasy. In the real-world consent is not only important, but also sexy.

Please remember that NIFTY is a free site that provides an invaluable resource for men like us. Please consider donating to help ensure that site remains available for everyone. https://donate.nifty.org/

You can contact me at pseudonominius@gmail.com.

Author's Notes

· If you want to be informed of new stories, send me an email, and ask to be put on the notification list. I'll send a notification. Everyone will be on the bcc line so your email address will not show to other members.

· I have created a google group for people who want to get more information about my stories in that format. Only I can view the member list, so data should be secure. If a reader sends a question my way, I will post the answer to that group after removing any information about the reader. It's a good way to get more background information if you want. https://groups.google.com/g/pseudominius-stories

· While this storyline is designed to mostly stand alone, you may have a better idea about some of the background if you read The Alchemist and Alchemy and Songcraft, since Kieran Morgan is a principal character in both story lines. This story stands alone, however. When these characters interact with the characters in College Magic, the entire scene pertaining to this story will be included here.

· My Stories

Small Town Slave Boys Chapter 4 (The Meaning of Slavery)

Dylan

I woke up with an urgent need to go to the bathroom. Kurt's arms were wrapped around my shoulders and his leg was wrapped mine. I could feel his hard cock pressing into my butt. This was as close to heaven as I could imagine. I'd been in love with Kurt since before I even knew what love was, and now I had him. Maybe I should say that he had me since he had claimed me as his slave. Either way, it was what I had always wanted.

I tried to wriggle out of Kurt's arms without waking him up, but I felt him tighten his arms around me.

"Where do you think you're going, slave?" he asked.

"I need to go to the bathroom, master," I said.

"But you didn't ask my permission," he teased. "Slaves don't leave their master's presence without permission."

"Master," I said meekly, "if you don't give me permission to go to the bathroom, I'm going to make a mess in this bed."

Kurt kissed the back of my neck and moved his arm down to squeeze my waist. "If you piss the bed, you'll have to clean it up, and I'll have to spank you. But you still haven't asked my permission."

He had a light tone in his voice, so I knew he was still teasing and not trying to be mean, but his arm was putting pressure on my bladder from the outside and I was about to lose control.

"Please master," I begged, "can I please go to the bathroom?"

Kurt released me and said, "Since you asked so nicely, let's go."

We both got out of bed and went to the basement bathroom. I was standing next to the toilet when Kurt pushed me to one side with his hip so that we could share the bowl.

"Since you're the slave, you can hold my dick while I piss," he said.

I took hold of mine with my right hand and his with my left hand and we urinated together, our streams crossing in the bowl like they did when we were kids. His dick was warm, and I feel it vibrating as his powerful stream poured out. It wasn't sexual in any way, but it was almost as intimate as having sex. At that moment I felt more like his slave than when he'd been fucking me last night.

I looked in the mirror and saw the two of us standing side by side, master and slave. He was more than six inches taller than me and almost fifty pounds heavier. My skin was pale with a fair sprinkling of light freckles, and his was light brown and sexy. I leaned my head against him for a moment, and he rubbed my butt.

"How is your butt this morning," he asked. "It looked like you were enjoying it, but I felt like I was tearing you up."

"I loved it, master!" I replied with enthusiasm, "but it did feel like you were ripping me apart, and it's still sore."

He put a hand on my shoulder and ordered, "Come into the bedroom and get up on all fours. I want to check for damages."

"Yes sir!" I said, almost skipping into the other room and crawling onto the bed.

Kurt got behind me and poked my hole, causing me to jump a little from the pain. He lubed his finger up and rubbed it around my sphincter and then pressed it inside. I yelped a little but gritted my teeth to stifle the howl I wanted to let out.

"Your little hole is puffy and a little red, so I'm not going to fuck you again today," he said. "I'll have you suck my cock later and then I'll rub some ointment on your hole so I can fuck you tomorrow. Now lay out some clothes for me to wear, sweats and a tee shirt for now. I'll be back to let you know if you're getting dressed in a few minutes."

After I dressed him, he went upstairs, and I started cleaning up the mess we'd made in the guest room.

Kurt

When I got upstairs, Steven was sitting in the recliner in the living room, doing something on his phone. I sat down on the sofa and asked, "Did you fuck Damian good last night?"

Steven looked up at me and replied, "I did. He's sexy as hell and he's always ready to drop everything and come running. Did you fuck Dylan?"

"I did, but I only put about half in, like you told me," I said. "But he looks puffy and swollen. I don't know if I hurt him or not. He was tensing up when I checked him out this morning."

"I'll take a look after breakfast, if you want me to," he said. "What was your plan for today?"

I chuckled a little and said, "I plan to work him like a slave and spank him for every little infraction. I know what you're going to say, but I'm still testing his commitment. I need to know that he understands what it means to be my slave. It's not just about him sucking my cock and me fucking him. He's not just my boyfriend. I need to know that he'll do anything I tell him to do. I need him to know that I expect him to work, to do something."

Steven looked thoughtful for a minute, then he said, "You're still worried about the fact that he's made no plans for college and doesn't seem interested in any other kind of job. I warned you about this before. He has no ambition. If he's not going to be weight around your neck, you're going to have to kick him in the butt until he does something."

"That's why I was reluctant to claim him as a slave," I said. "But now that I have, I need to make sure that he doesn't waste his life doing nothing. I made it my responsibility."

"And that's what he wanted, Kurt," Steven explained. "He doesn't have to decide anything for himself. Now you're going to have to do it for him. But don't be too hard on yourself. You had no choice because you're in love with him and you have been for years. And if you hadn't claimed him, he'd still be your best friend and you'd end up supporting him anyway."

"You don't sound like you like him very much," I said, feeling a little hurt. He hadn't liked Alicia either.

"Kurt, I love Dylan like a sad, lazy, and unambitious little brother. I think he's terrible for you because of everything I've already said, but you'd be miserable without him, so I must try and help him figure out what he's going to do. At least we'll have six months after he turns eighteen to take charge and get him headed in the right direction. Tell him to move out of his parents' house then and move in here."

"So that's what's wrong with Dylan," I said. "What was wrong with Alicia?"

"That's simple," he said. "You weren't in love with her. You deserved better and so did she."

I nodded. He'd been telling me that I was in love with Dylan for a long time, but I'd been ignoring him. When I finally admitted it to myself, I'd put off telling him he was right, but he'd known anyway. He could always read me like a book. He was only ten and a half months older than me, but he'd always been taller, and he'd always seemed wiser.

"Maybe I'll just take him to college with me to clean my house and suck my dick while I'm studying," I chuckled.

Steve looked at me like I was crazy. "Don't mention that to him as possibility, Bro," he said. "He'd jump on it in a minute. While you've been planning for your future, he's been planning on you as a future."

"You're probably right," I said. "Speaking of keeping house, I was going to have Dylan make us eggs and bacon for breakfast. You haven't eaten yet have you?"

"Not yet," he said. Then he asked, accusatorily, "And what are you going to have him eat?"

"Don't worry, Bro. I won't withhold food from him. Thanks for that warning by the way. I never realized how little he ate. I'm giving him a breakfast shake to make sure he gets enough calories. He's a picky eater."

"He's not a picky eater, Bro. He's terrified of putting on weight and being unattractive. He has an eating disorder. If I were you, I wouldn't let him go into the bathroom alone once we start putting some muscle on him. He'll be vomiting up everything you make him eat."

I sat upright in surprise, "Are you serious about that? I don't want to make him put on muscle if it's going to make him start doing that. I'd like to feel fewer bones when I'm holding him, but not if it comes to that. And I don't want to bulk him up anyway."

"Dude, Dylan is not bulking up no matter how much we make him work out. He's naturally skinny like his mother. At least he doesn't have her sour face," he said. "He looks just like his uncle."

Dylan

When Kurt came downstairs to get me, he told me we were alone, just him, me, and Steven, so I wouldn't need clothes, but I would need to wear an apron. I thought I was going to be wearing the apron Steve used when he grilled or cooked, but Kurt pulled a small apron out of the pantry instead. It was sized for someone my height and it was a pink gingham pattern with lacy frills along the sides. Kurt tied it around me then kissed my neck.

"Now you look like a proper gay houseboy," he said. "Spin for me."

"Yes master!" I said and then I spun in a circle for him.

He caught me and kissed me with passion, and a whole lot of tongue. Then he snapped his fingers and pointed at the floor. I dropped to my knees and looked up at him expectantly.

"Steven and I will each have two eggs, four slices of bacon and two pieces of toast, along with orange juice and coffee," he said. "I'll feed you a when we're done."

"Yes master," I replied.

I waited for him to snap his fingers again and then I jumped up to get everything ready. I made sure to wash my hands first and then ground some coffee to add to the coffee carafe. The Groths used a coffee pot with a glass carafe with a filter you sat in the top and slowly poured hot water over the grounds. As soon as I set it up, I turned on the electric tea kettle and started frying bacon. Breakfast was the favorite meal of the day at the Groth household, and I already knew how they took their eggs. The trick was getting everything ready at once, so nothing got cold. Usually, Steven helped when I made breakfast for the family, but I guessed those day were over.

Once the bacon was frying, I set the dining room table and took out the orange juice. I was proud that I'd managed to get it all together almost all at the same time. The guys were seated at the table, so I served them coffee as soon as it was done, and then set up the carafe for a second serving. It only held 17 ounces, so the Groths had three of them. I reused the one from the first serving.

I thought I did a good job plating the meal. Two eggs over easy, four slices of bacon and two pieces of buttered toast, cut diagonally with the crusts removed fanned across half the plate. I'd sliced an orange and placed it on the two plates as well. I took them in and placed them in front of my master and his brother. Then I went to get the orange juice.

During breakfast, I stood ready to serve except for a brief trip to make the second carafe of coffee. Kurt's hands often wandered over my butt, or occasionally under my apron to squeeze my balls gently. But when Steven stuck his hand in my crack and pressed on my hole, I jumped. I wasn't just that I was startled that he'd done it, but also that it hurt when he pressed me there with his finger.

"After you clean up, I'm going to inspect your ass," he said.

"Yes ... sir," I said.

Then I cleaned up the dishes and started washing them. Steven was picky about the kitchen, so I knew that everything needed to be perfect. While I was cleaning, Kurt mixed a breakfast drink in a tumbler and handed it to me.

"This is your breakfast," he said. "Drink it all, then clean the cup. When you're done, take off the apron and come into the living room."

"Yes master," I replied and then drank the thick chocolatey drink.

He'd made it in a large tumbler, and it must have been half full, like a cup and a half. It made me feel full, and I didn't like that feeling. I was tempted to go into the bathroom and throw some of it up, but I thought Kurt would be angry if he caught me. I rinsed it out and put it in the dishwasher with the other dishes, then wiped everything down again before heading into the living room.

Master Kurt and Steven were waiting for me. There was a towel on the floor and a big bottle of lubricant sitting on the coffee table. There was also a small flashlight.

Steven said, "Kneel here over the towel. Put your shoulders down and your butt up in the air."

"Yes sir," I replied.

Then Kurt straddled my body so he could see my butt. He pulled my cheeks apart as far as he could, so Steven could examine my hole with a well lubed finger. It hurt and this time I let them know with my yelps and gasps.

"Work your fingers inside him and then pull his ring apart as much as you can," Steven said. "This would be easier if I'd ordered a speculum. They aren't very much on Amazon, but I didn't think of it in time."

Kurt worked his lubed index finger inside me, and I gritted my teeth and moaned. Then he worked the other in beside it. My leg muscles were spasming a little from the painful sensations. Kurt used his fingers to stretch my anus open.

"It's just a horizontal slit now, Kurt. I can't see inside yet. You'll have to use two more fingers to make a little window for me," Steven said.

I wanted say no, but I didn't think it was okay for me to say no to them. I cried out a little to express my dismay, but Kurt worked his two middle fingers inside me as well. And soon he was able to pull my anus apart far enough for Steven to see inside. I felt his finger pressing on a few spots and I assumed he was using the flashlight to get a good look.

"I see the ring itself is really red and puffy and there's some irritation inside," he said, "but I don't see any tearing or blood. You can fuck him again when the swelling goes down. You can start fingering his butt tomorrow, I think, but however much lube you think you need, I want you to use more than that."

Kurt pulled his fingers out of my butt and said, "I don't like the taste of lube."

"Bro, eat his ass first, then lube up your finger, even if you think he's relaxed enough," he said.

Kurt moved in front of me and snapped his fingers. I sat up straight and looked at his feet. When he started talking I looked up at his face.

"Today is a workday," he said. "Go brush your teeth and then report to me back here."

I ran downstairs to follow my master's orders. It sounded like I would be working all day and then I wouldn't be getting fucked. It had hurt a lot and I could still feel it, but I wanted to do it again. I cursed myself for not working harder to loosen my butt up before Kurt had fucked me, but I hadn't known he was going to do it. And I didn't know how to do it. I had a dildo I used to stretch my mouth, but I was sure that my mother or Tommy would have found it if I'd had to take it into the bathroom and clean it all the time.

As I was coming into the living room, I heard the tail end of a conversation.

"... giant mutant cock, just like I told you," Steven said with a laugh.

"It's not my fault he's so little," Kurt said.

"Big, giant, mutant cock," Steven repeated.

They were laughing when I came into the room and knelt in front of Kurt. He stood up and used his foot to push my knees further apart. "I'm going to have to discipline you for the two times you've messed this position up already today, so pay attention."

Then he walked over and picked up an old short sleeve shirt that I knew I'd seen Steven wear in the past. He told me to stand up and then he put it on me. Steven stood almost a foot taller than me, and this was the kind of shirt with tails that hung down in the back and in the front. When it was buttoned, my butt and groin were covered. Then Kurt pulled out an old canvas belt and put it around my waist.

"Now you're in a slave tunic," Kurt said. "You'll be wearing this when you work outside the house."

"Yes master," I said, looking down at the brightly colored vertical stripes. It looked like a dress on me, but I knew better than to complain.

"I don't know, Kurt. He's pretty when he's naked, but I think he's even prettier in the tunic. You should keep him dressed like this all the time. I know how you love Roman things," Steven said.

Kurt turned me around a few times the whistled as he flicked my erection. It was pushing against the fabric in the front. One little part of me was loving this humiliation. Then he slid his hand under the tunic to fondle my butt.

"I think I will, Bro," my master said. "Dylan you are one cute slaveboy dressed like this. But you'll need shoes."

He handed me an old pair of his athletic shoes that he must have outgrown a couple of years ago. They were loose, but I pulled the laces tight. Then I followed him outside to the shed. He opened the door and pulled out an old push lawn mower, the kind that was powered by the user pushing it.

"I found this at a garage sale and bought it just for you," he said. "You're going to mow the yard today."

He gestured at the open lawn. The Groths lived at the edge of town and the part of their back yard that was just grass was about 2 acres. It would take me all day to push this lawn mower around. I looked over at Kurt, but he had a stern expression on his face. He took a straw hat with a wide brim out of the shed and put it on my head.

"If you need a drink, the hose is over by the house," he said. "You'll be disciplined if you don't finish, and you'll be disciplined if you do a shitty job. Oh, and if you need to go to the bathroom, you can go in the trees back there."

The Groth property included another 10 acres of woodland behind the back lawn. The woods stretched for a mile or more, but the Groths didn't own it all. We'd camped back there a few times when we were younger. There were deer, pheasant, quail, and rabbits, but we'd never seen any dangerous animals.

With a swat on my butt, Kurt told me to get started. The he walked back to the house, leaving me to my work. I sighed and got started.

Steven

"Damn, Bro," I said to Kurt when he came back in smiling, "you know he'll never finish that today and his arms and legs are going to be sore tomorrow."

"I know," Kurt replied. "It's not about him finishing. He must make a choice between getting punished for not finishing or getting punished for doing a shitty job."

"And you get to spank him either way," I said. "It's win-win for you and lose-lose for him. It doesn't seem very fair to me."

Kurt laughed and said, "You don't get it. I want to see what choice he will make. If he chooses to do a good job, but doesn't finish, I'll tell him that he doesn't get punished because he was working hard all day, but if he tries to take the easy way out and does a shitty job, I'll emphasize that he's getting punished for doing a terrible work. Hopefully, it will teach him to do his best whenever he's given a task."

"Something his father should have taught him when he was younger," I said, "if his father had been worth a crap."

I wasn't going to go off on Pastor Morgan again. Kurt had heard it all before because it was a sore point with me.

Dylan

The grassy area of the yard, as opposed to the deck, the flower beds, the fruit trees, the garden, and the berry brambles was flat. It was a little bigger than two football fields lying side by side. I knew that Kurt was making me do this because he wanted me to do it. They had a service that came in and did the work, and I knew that they would be by on Wednesday. On Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, they had someone come in and tend the garden. All summer long, the Groth household was filled with fresh fruits and vegetables. The guy who tended the garden took some of the produce home and canned it, bringing back half of it. It was the same when it was time to harvest the fruit.

In any event, my master had ordered me to cut the grass, and I was going to do it. I wasn't stupid. He'd told me that he was going to be testing me to see if I would follow his orders. I didn't know what he would do if I failed the tests, but I was afraid that he would decide I wasn't worthy to be his slave. If I couldn't be his slave, he wouldn't have me as his boyfriend. I knew that deep inside and I wasn't going to push it.

The sun had drawn high in the sky. I'd taken several drinks from the hose, and I'd run into the woods to pee twice. My body was feeling numb from pushing that mower. I'd noticed early on that I had to overlap the rows as I pushed the mower or tall grass would be left behind in a thin row, not that it was that long since the landscapers came by every week, but it would be visible when Kurt inspected the area.

Kurt came out of the house and whistled for me to come over. I ran toward him and dropped to my knees, bending forward to kiss his bare feet. I loved his strong muscular feet and planned to show my master how much when I got the chance.

"That's enough, slaveboy," Master Kurt said.

He led me over to the shade of a tree and placed two bowls on the ground. One of the was filled with refried beans, mixed with cheese and salsa. The other contained a bright yellow liquid. He must have seen my body tense a little.

"It's just some burrito filling and a bowl of Gatorade," he said. "I want to make sure you keep your electrolytes up."

"Thank you master," I said. I did feel deeply grateful.

I was hungry and I was feeling lightheaded. I knelt on the ground and used my fingers to eat the beans, and I drank the Gatorade to wash it down. I hated Gatorade, but Kurt was probably right that I needed it.

"Rest for 15 minutes and then get back to work," Kurt said. "You don't have a watch, so I'll whistle to let you know when it's time."

Then he went into the house, leaving me there in the shade to rest. I didn't mean to do it, but I was already bone tired. I just closed my eyes for a moment, and I feel asleep. I didn't hear him whistle; I woke up to Kurt poking my leg with foot.

"Get up and get back to work," he said.

I went back to the mower and started pushing. I could feel the tightness in my arms, legs, and back. And there was more than half the yard yet to mow. I pushed that mower as the sun crawled slowly across the sky, and I was getting more tired with each step. Then I felt a familiar pressure in my butt and knew that I needed to find a spot in the woods to poop.

I walked into the woods and kept walking until I found a spot that seemed sheltered from all sides. I pulled up my tunic and squatted. When I was done, I found some leaves and wiped well. Then I moved a few feet away and sat down, leaning against a tree. I closed my eyes and fell asleep again.

This time I woke up with Steven poking my leg and yelling, "Wake the fuck up, slave boy!"

I jumped and rubbed my eyes.

"Get on your knees!" he yelled.

I scrambled to kneel before him in the proper position, my knees spread and my back straight. My ears were burning. I felt terrible because I'd failed to serve my master like I'd promised. I'd fucked up enough that Steven was yelling at me. He never yelled at me.

"You said that you wanted to be Kurt's slave. Did you mean it or were playing a game?" he asked.

"I meant what I said, sir," I replied.

"This isn't about the yardwork. It isn't about you falling asleep during your unauthorized break. It's about the fact that you're too weak to follow through with what you promised. I told you before that you weren't good enough for my brother. If you can't follow through with a promise, then you're still not good enough," he said.

"I'm sorry, sir," I cried. "I'm know that I'm worthless. I always have been. Please help me."

Steven squatted down next to me and turn my face up to look at him. He had a stern expression on his face, but his tone of voice was kind when he said, "Dylan, listen to me. I didn't say you were worthless. I said that you weren't worthy of my brother. You've made some improvements, but you still have a way to go. Forget not completing the mowing. You and I both know it wasn't about that. We have landscapers coming in a couple of days. They can finish the yard. It's about you making a promise and not following through on it."

"But how can I follow through, sir, if I can't do the job?" I asked.

"Dylan," he asked, "did you try your best to do exactly what you were told to do?"

I shook my head and started crying again. I'd failed to keep my promise and Kurt was going to throw me out and go back to dating Alicia. And I was going to be alone because no one loved but Kurt.

"Answer me, Dylan?" Steven demanded.

"No sir, I didn't," I admitted.

"Now let's be clear," he said. "This behavior today is part of a bigger problem. You never follow through on anything. When you make a promise or a commitment of any kind, you don't follow through."

"Can you help me learn how to follow through, sir?" I begged. He'd helped me before with my schoolwork. I knew he could help me again.

"Do you want to be Kurt's slave? Answer me truthfully. I'm not Kurt, so don't just tell me what you think I want to hear," he said.

"I do, sir," I said. "I really do. I liked it when we played at it as kids. It was his suggestion at first, but I think I liked it even more than he did. And I'm the one who asked him if we could do it again."

Steven explained, "I don't fully understand this relationship between you two, but if you really want to be Kurt's slave, the only way I can help you is to be an enforcer, to redirect you when you mess up and to help discipline you when you don't."

"Please sir, I'm begging you to help me," I said.

"Listen Dylan," he replied. "Since you asked me, I'll help you, but I'm going to be strict, even stricter than Kurt. When you fail to perform to the absolute best of your ability, I will discipline you harshly. If you learn your lesson well, you may – I repeat may – become worthy of Kurt."

"Yes sir," I said, "or do I call you master?"

Steven shook his head and said, "No. Kurt is your master. You'll keep calling me sir."

"Yes sir!" I replied, eager to have Steven on my side.

"Run the shed and get a shovel," he commanded. "Then run back here. A slave shouldn't dawdle."

I ran to do as I was commanded. My legs felt like rubber. When I got back to him I stood there with the shovel looking foolish.

Steven pointed to the feces I'd left lying there and the pile of soiled leaves next to it. "You left a mess on our property," he said. "Bury it."

I used the shovel to dig a hole and then scraped the mess inside before shoveling the dirt back over top of it. He made me tap it down until it was almost flat. I followed Steven back. He made me spray the shovel off with the hose and then put it neatly on the hook.

"You have about two more hours to work before dinner time," he instructed.

I went back to work with a renewed purpose, determined to prove myself worthy. I just had to show my best effort. The problem was, I didn't know what my best effort looked like. Steven wasn't wrong about me. But that was the old me. The new me was going to be different.

Steven

I'd hoped to stay clear of this whole slavery thing until Kurt mellowed out a little. He was like a kid in a candy store who was gorging himself, but he was gorging himself on power instead of candy. He'd just gotten what he'd been wanting for years. Eventually he would become calmer about the whole thing. But now I'd promised to help Dylan become a better slave. Given what was going on right now, it was probably the only way to help him learn to do his best work. I had a lot of reading to do if I was going to be able to pull this off.

I grabbed a pan of lasagna from the freezer. Cory had prepared enough food for us to last for the full two weeks before he and Dad left for their vacation. He was always like that, taking care of us. We wouldn't have to cook or order dinner while they were gone. And I didn't feel like cooking tonight anyway. I popped it in the convection oven and made a salad which I wrapped and put in the refrigerator until dinner. I figured we'd be busy just before we ate.

"How did it go today?" Kurt asked. "Did he work steadily while I was gone?"

I hadn't heard him come in.

"He fell asleep again," I said, "but I don't think he could help it. I added his infractions to the white board."

"I thought you were refusing to `play my game' as you called it," he said with a smirk.

"I couldn't stay out of it," I said. "He wants to improve, but he doesn't know how. I felt sorry for him, so I agreed to help discipline him, and if that doesn't sound twisted, I don't know what does. So, count me in, whether I want to be here or not."

Kurt clapped me on the back and said, "I knew you couldn't stay out of it, Bro."

"I'm doing it for him," I said, "not for you. He's so ..."

"Sweet? Sad? Pathetic?" he asked. "You've called him all that and more in just the past year."

"He's so in love with you," I replied. "That's what I was going to say. I'm helping him to stop being pathetic. If you're insistent on spending the rest of your life with him, I want to make him worth spending time with."

"Besides," he said, "you're in love with him too."

"Not hardly," I said. "I love him, of course. I've spent too much time with him over the years to not love him. But enough of that. Did you get what you went for?"

"Yeah, I did," he replied. "I can't believe it came so quickly even if I did have to drive a couple of hours to get the pick-up point."

"You could have waited for a couple of days," I pointed out.

"No, I couldn't," he said. "What until you see it. I'm going to give it to him tomorrow."

Dylan

I was still pushing the lawn mower when Kurt came out to check on my progress. When he drew near, I stopped pushing the mower and dropped to my knees. I made sure to be in the proper position this time. He walked around and examined my work.

"You finished half of the work," he said critically, "but the half you did complete is well done. Did you work the whole time?"

I wanted to lie. At home, whenever I got in trouble, I always lied, but I knew that Kurt would see through my falsehoods. And there was more. I didn't want to lie to Kurt. I wanted to be honest with him, no matter the consequences.

"No master," I said. "I fell asleep in the woods after I pooped, and I slept until Steven woke me up. I didn't mean to do it, but I did and it's my fault."

"Put up the mower Dylan, then join me at the back of the house," he said.

"Yes master," I said. Then I wrestled the mower into the shed and made sure it was neat. The Groths didn't leave stuff lying around like we did at my house. Everything had a place and that's where they put it.

I ran over to the back of the house, stumbling and almost falling as I did. Kurt was waiting with the hose.

"Take your tunic off and set in on the deck," he commanded.

"Yes master," I replied.

Then he hosed me down to get the grass, sweat and dirt off my body. It felt good being sprayed down like that. My skin was itchy from dried sweat and tiny pieces of grass, and I was still overheated. When he turned off the hose, he said, "Stay on the deck until you dry, then come into the kitchen and wait for me."

I stood there on the deck for a long time. It had been a hot and humid day, and even with the sun low on the horizon it was still warm. The mosquitos had bitten my ankles and calves badly when I was cutting the grass, and now they were out in force. I wondered if I was being punished, or if Kurt had forgotten how much mosquitos loved me.

As soon as I thought I was dry enough, I went inside and knelt in the kitchen. The smell of lasagna filled the house, and my stomach began growling. I was hungrier than I thought. Steven was checking the temperature of the lasagna with a thermometer. Then he removed the foil from the top and pushed it back into the oven. He had garlic bread laid out, preparing to go under the broiler and a salad sitting on the counter in a bowl. He ignored me while he worked.

Kurt came in and ignored me for a few minutes while he moved a wooden stool and then wrote something on the white board on the wall. I could hear the markers squeaking.

"Look over here," he commanded.

I responded, "Yes master." Then I lifted my head and shifted position so I could see the white board. He'd written out the following list.

Infractions

· Didn't spread knees & straighten back when kneeling

· No cloth napkins at breakfast

· Left wet towel on the kitchen counter after breakfast

· Didn't spread legs in the living room when kneeling

· Took unauthorized rest break in the woods

· Didn't bury poop in the woods

· Didn't acknowledge Steven's commands in the woods

"I see seven infractions here. I may have missed one or two, but this is tonight's list," he said. Then he held out two dice and said, "You're going to roll these dice, Dylan. Whatever number you roll, I'm going to multiply by the number of infractions and that's the number of swats you're going to get with this paddle."

He picked up a wooden paddle about a foot long. It had holes drilled through it. Then he handed me the dice. I took them in my trembling hands.

"Yes master," I said quietly.

I held my breath and rolled the dice. I could roll a 2 and get 14 swats, or I could roll a 12 and get 84 swats. I took a breath when I saw a 1 and a 4. That was a 5 and it meant 35 swats. It seemed like a lot, but it could have been so much worse.

"Do you have anything to say, slaveboy," Kurt asked with a solemn expression.

"I'm sorry, master," I said. "I didn't know I'd messed up so much today. I'll try to do better in the future."

He nodded at me and said, "Lean over the stool."

He'd placed a towel over the padded seat of the stool. I positioned my abdomen over the towel, with my head and legs hanging down. I had nothing to do with my hands, so I grabbed onto the legs. Kurt moved behind me and pushed my legs together, making sure that my cock and balls weren't exposed from the back. Then he rubbed my back gently as he moved to the front and held the paddle out.

"Kiss the paddle, slaveboy," he said with a smile.

I did and then he said, "This is going to hurt, but it will help you learn to be better. If this were ancient Rome, I'd be using a baculum or a flagellum, that's a cane or a whip. I thought the paddle would be effective and safer. Make sure you keep your legs closed so your balls aren't exposed. I don't want to hit them. And be sure to count the swats. I don't want to have to start over."

"Yes master," I said.

Then he landed the first blow, and it hurt like hell. I screamed out "One master", then braced for the next blow. Kurt landed each blow on my butt. Not once did miss and hit my legs, back or side. And I counted out every single swat. I was crying by the tenth swat, and I was yelling at the top of my lungs by the twentieth. But then my butt seemed to go a little numb and there was a pressure building in my dick. It kept building with every swat. It was the twenty-fifth that made me start peeing all over the floor. I felt a shudder of release as I emptied what I thought was my bladder.

When he was done, Kurt brought the paddle around to my face again. I had no idea why he had a giant smile on his face, but he did. "Kiss the paddle again, slaveboy," he said.

When I did, he helped me up from the stool, then told me, "Clean up your mess, Dylan."

"Yes master," I said, looking down at the puddle of cum on the floor.

"That's right, Dylan, you came when I was blistering your butt," he laughed. "I don't know if I was disciplining you or giving you pleasure there at the end, but I'm going to track your infractions and I'm going to keep disciplining you until you get better at doing your best work. Attention to detail, that's your weak point."

I knelt on the floor. My ass butt still burning, but I thought the cheeks of my face were probably burning just as bad from the embarrassment. I couldn't believe that I'd dropped a load from feeling that paddle on my ass. And it was a big load. Luckily the floor was clean. I knew because I was the one who'd cleaned it. I stuck out my tongue and began to lick it up. I was no stranger to the taste of my own cum. It was good, but I preferred the taste of Kurt's.

When the floor was clean, Kurt held out his hand and helped me to my feet. Then he pulled me into a tight embrace and held me for several minutes. I wanted to stay there forever with his arms wrapped around me, but I knew that was impossible. I'd take him just as my boyfriend, a guy who cuddled me on the couch, kissed me gently and made love to me at least once a day. And I hoped to get some of that from time to time, but when he gave me orders and disciplined me, that's when I really came alive. If I had to choose one Kurt, it would be Master Kurt, but I was looking forward to having both Master Kurt and Boyfriend Kurt.

"Are you still happy being my slave, Dylan?" he asked.

I buried my face in his powerful bronze chest and breathed deeply of his scent. My mind was reeling from the experience as I replied, "Yes Master! I don't think anything has ever made me happier."

He kissed the top of my head and then said, "Go shower and brush your hair. I want you to be clean and pretty when you serve dinner."

"Yes Master!" I said before rushing downstairs to get clean.

I enjoyed the feeling of warm water and soap pouring over my body. I knew that Master Kurt had said that he wasn't going to fuck me tonight, but I cleaned my butt anyway, hoping against hope that he would change his mind. (He didn't.)

Once I was clean and dry, I rushed back up the stairs. I didn't run in the house, but I'd taken Steven's admonition to heart, and I did not dawdle. When I got there I dropped to my knees and knelt like a proper slave. Steven had taken the lasagna out of the oven, and he was waiting for garlic bread. Kurt ignored me for a minute or so, then he came over holding my frilly pink apron.

"Get up, slaveboy," he commanded.

I gave him a submissive "yes master" then stood up so he could fasten it around my waist. He swatted my butt, making me wince, then he said, "Sorry, Dylan, I'd forgotten how red your butt was."

Steven handed me a pair of oven mitts before going to gather some ingredients for salad dressing. I pulled the mitts on. Steven's hands were much too big for them. Kurt could squeeze into them if necessary, but all three Groth men usually just used potholders. I assumed that they were here for Alan's use. I knew he still came around when I wasn't here.

"Take the lasagna out and set it on the rack to cool," Steven ordered. "Then grate some Parmesan and Romano."

Steve had me do all the grunt work in the kitchen. He didn't trust me to make salad dressing. Then I had to set the table and prepare some drinks. I made sure to put out cloth napkins and even grabbed some napkin rings from the drawer. I made coke and lime for the guys (their favorite drink). Then it was time to cut the lasagna. I placed one large piece and two pieces of garlic bread on each plate, then put salad in separate bowls. Everything smelled so good.

When the guys were seated, I took them their drinks, their salad and finally their lasagna. I stood ready to serve them while they ate. Despite my grumbling belly, I enjoyed serving them like the superior men they were. There was something about the Groth men that made me want to bow down and serve them. They weren't like me or my father or my brothers. They were men, confident, self-assured, and radiating charisma.

Kurt couldn't get enough of touching me while I stood by, and I couldn't get enough of feeling his hands on my body. When he brushed against my butt, I opened my legs to give him all the access he could need or want. I knew that I would do anything he asked, give him anything he asked. He treated me like he owned me wholly and he did.

When dinner was done, I began clearing the table. I noticed that Kurt had put a slice of lasagna about a third as large as the one I'd given him in a pasta bowl, and he was mashing it with a fork so that it was in bite size pieces, then he placed a single slice of garlic bread on top. He left it sitting on the counter for me to eat later.

"When you're done cleaning up, eat everything in the bowl and drink a glass of water," he said. "Then join me and Steven in the living room."

I did the dishes and cleaned everything up, then I looked in the bowl. I was afraid that I'd get fat if I ate all of that, so I cut it in half and put half of it in the garbage. Then I ate the rest and washed it down with a glass of water. I was just placing my dishes in the dishwasher when Steven walked in. I couldn't see what he was doing because I was busy.

I'd barely finished starting the dishwasher, when I felt Steven's hand slam into my butt hard enough to make me yelp. I turned and saw that he had a stern look on his face. He snapped his fingers and pointed at the floor.

I dropped to my knees, unsure what I'd done to make him mad. "Follow me," he ordered. "Don't get up; you can crawl."

I followed him on my hands and knees into the living room. Kurt asked, "What's happening, Steve?"

Steven snapped his fingers again and pointed at the floor. I assumed the kneeling position. I was feeling more than a little afraid. What had I done to make Steven so mad?

"I warned you," he said to Kurt. "Your slaveboy just threw half his dinner in the trash."

Then Steven pulled my chin up to look into my eyes. "Did you eat your lunch, or did you throw it out in the woods?"

My ears were burning as I replied, "I ate it, sir. Dinner was too much. I couldn't eat it all."

"Bullshit!" Steven said. "Your dinner was only about 750 calories. You had about 360 for breakfast and 400 for lunch. That was 1510 calories for the day, 200 less than you should have in a day, and you threw away about 300 calories. You're starving yourself."

"No sir!" I cried. "I can't eat because I'm full."

Steven sighed and shook his head. Kurt had a concerned look on his face. "I should get the paddle," he said. "I told you to eat all the food in the bowl."

"Don't do it, Bro," Steven said. "You can't punish him over food. From now on, watch him eat and don't let him go to the bathroom without one of us present. Why did you really do it, Dylan?"

I started crying. "I don't want to get fat," I said. "I was getting fat in eighth grade and Donny made fun of me. I can't get fat."

Kurt got down onto the floor and pulled me onto his lap. "Shh," he said. "It's okay. You're not fat. You're not getting fat. Your underweight if anything."

"Three and a half percent under your minimum recommended weight," Steven said.

Then he punched the wall and let out a loud, "Fuck! I fucking hate every last one of them."

"Do you want to be my slave, Dylan?" Kurt asked.

"Yes master, more than anything," I replied. "Don't throw me out."

"Shh, I said it was okay," Kurt insisted. "No one is throwing you out, but I want you to listen to me. I'm giving you an order, as your master. You'll eat what I tell you to eat, and you won't, under any circumstances, throw any food away."

"And you won't throw up any food you eat," Steven said, sitting down next to us. "You have been, haven't you?"

"Yes sir," I said. "I do sometimes, when my parents make me eat at home, but I won't do it again. I promise."

"And we're going to be watching out for you," Steven said, putting one hand with its bloody knuckles on my shoulder.

"Come on," Kurt said, "let's go to the kitchen."

I followed him and knelt, watching him while he mixed a smaller amount of the breakfast smoothie he'd given me this morning and handed it to me. "Drink it up," he said. "This should be the same number of calories you threw away."

Then Kurt led me down into the basement guest room. "Take my clothes off and put them in the hamper," he commanded.

I reached up and pulled down his shorts and his underwear, letting his large cock bounce of the top of my head. We both got a laugh out of that. Seeing his cock made me think of Steven's joke. His cock was a giant, but it was too gorgeous a to be a mutant. Like me he was only seventeen. I wondered if he would get much bigger as he matured.

Then I stood up to take his shirt off. Kurt was so much taller than me that he had to sit down before I could do it. He reached out and took my dick in his hand. It was within the average range, but just barely. I knew because I'd measured it. Kurt's was four inches longer and much thicker. He squeezed mine gently until it hardened and grew to its maximum size. Then he fondled my balls for a minute or so.

"Your little dicklet is so pretty," he said. "I like the way it fits in my hand."

"Thank you, master," I replied.

"How often do you play with it?" he asked.

"Once or twice a day, usually, master," I said.

He looked into my eyes and said, "All that stops now, you know. This little dicklet belongs to me, just like the rest of your body. And you can't play with any of my stuff without my permission. Do you understand me?"

"Yes master," I replied. This command would be difficult to follow, but I was going to make every effort to obey it.

Kurt stood up and held his cock and mine together in one hand. "Mine is so much bigger than yours," he said. "Your dicklet and my cock aren't even really in the same category are they?"

"No master, they're not," I agreed.

He smiled at me and then kissed me. He had a mischievous look on his face as he said, "From now on, I want you to refer to this as your dicklet. Do you understand me, slaveboy?"

"Yes master," I replied. "This is my dicklet."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "This little dicklet belongs to me. Say it."

His words sent a thrill down my spine. It felt right to me that he would point out how small my dicklet was. His was a sign of his power and mine was a sign of my submission to him. This fantasy was like so many stories that I had read and masturbated to online, and every time I had done so, I'd substituted Kurt and myself for the characters in those stories.

"This little dicklet belongs to you, master," I replied.

He patted me on the head and then stretched out on the bed. "It's time to suck my cock, slaveboy," he said.

I climbed onto the bed and took his magnificent cock in my hands. I kissed it gently and pulled back the foreskin. A drop of precum had formed at the tip. I kissed the head directly on the slit and licked it off. I'd had time to practice worshipping his cock over the last year, but I still couldn't swallow all nine inches. I was still working on that goal.

I licked around the head and took as much as I could into my mouth. I sucked on his shaft, using my cheeks and my tongue to massage him. With my right hand, I stroked his cock and with my left I gently fondled his balls. I was almost as hard myself as my master. I felt like I was on the edge of orgasm as surely as he was.

"Your mouth gets more talented every day, slaveboy," Kurt said, stroking my hair.

His cock swelled and then my master cried out as he flooded my mouth with his cum. I sucked until he'd shot his last. Then I kept sucking until I'd gotten the last drop. I pulled off his cock and licked my lips.

"I love your taste, master," I said. "Thank you for letting me have your cum."

He turned me over onto my back and took hold of my full balls and rolled them in his hand. I was so close. All I needed was a single touch to send me over the edge. He pulled my scrotum and squeezed my balls gently. Then he took two fingers and used them to tap me gently on the frenum. Each touch was like an electric shot. He didn't stroke me, not once, but I felt my excitement growing with each tap.

And then I came, but just at that moment, he stopped touching me. My cock spurted once then oozed cum without the intense feeling of an orgasm. When I stopped cumming, he scooped it up with his fingers and fed it to me. I was still aroused, but no longer hard.

He pulled out a sheet and made me lay on it. He gently rubbed a cream on my butt that numbed it slightly. Then he rubbed Ben-Gay onto my arms, legs, pecs and back before wrapping me tight in the blanket and spooning me from behind.

"You did good today, Dylan," he said. "I know you had seven infractions and took thirty-five swats, but you still did good. And tomorrow you'll do better."

Characters

· Bethany Morgan. The mother of the Morgan kids and the wife of the pastor. She's a passive-aggressive woman and a homophobe. She's 44 at the start of the story.

· Cory Lundgren. Bethany's youngest brother. He's short, blond, and blue-eyed, like Dylan. He stands 5 foot 7 inches tall and weighs 150 pounds. He's fourteen years younger than his sister. He was thrown out of the house for being gay when he was 18. He's 30 years old at the beginning of the story. Corwin Alan Lundgren. He works as Mr. Groth's assistant, but he's secretly his slave.

· Craig Morgan. The pastor. He stands 6 foot tall and weighs 160 pounds. He's thin and mean, with a sour expression. Although secretly gay, he married Bethany Lundgren to cover it up. He and his younger brother Kenneth Morgan (Kieran's father) never got along. He took Kieran in when his parents died. He's 45 at the start of the story.

· Donald Morgan. The oldest Morgan son. He's 5 foot 11 inches tall and weighs 180 pounds. He's heavy-set but strong. He has dark red hair and a lot of freckles. He's mean-spirited and domineering, and he made his brother Dylan's life hard.

· Dylan Morgan. The main character who is the middle son in the Growth household. At 17, he was 5 foot 5 inches tall and weighed 130 pounds. He has blond hair and blue eyes. He's submissive and has dreamed of being his best friend's slave since middle school.

· Elizabeth Jepps. She's the only Morgan daughter. She's much like her mother. She's seven years older than Dylan. She got married at 18 to get out of the house. They rarely see her except at church. She's married to Jerry Jepps.

· Jerry Jepps. He's the husband of Elizabeth Morgan-Jepps. He's six years older than his wife and thirteen years older than Dylan. He works as a manager at the Farm and Feed store.

· Kurt Groth. He's the youngest Groth boy, only a few months younger than Dylan. His mother was black, so his skin is much darker than his father. He stands 6 foot tall and weighs 175 pounds. He muscular but less bulky than his father. He has medium brown skin and black hair with tight curls. He wears it medium length on top with a low fade. He is bisexual, but he's in love with his best friend Dylan. He wants to dominate him totally and own him as a slave.

· Roger Growth. Owner of Groth Automobiles, Groth Farm Equipment, and several properties around town. He's forty years old and has two sons, Steven, and Kurt. He stands 6 foot tall and weighs 200 pounds of solid muscle. He has light brown hair and fair skin. His wife died 10 years ago, and he's been Cory's master.

· Steven Groth. The oldest of the two Groth boys. He stands 6 foot 4 inches tall and weighs 190 pounds. He has light brown skin and wavy black hair that he wears very short. He was a swimmer in high school and keeps his body shaved even after graduation. He has light amber eyes. He was in love with Kieran Morgan all through high school and he regrets not pressing Kieran to come out of the closet when they were in school together. He's a year older than Dylan and Kurt.

· Thomas Morgan. The youngest Morgan son. He's two years younger than Dylan but he's about the same size. He has red hair and freckles. He joins in with his oldest brother teasing and tormenting Kieran and Dylan.