Date: Sun, 4 Jan 2009 22:56:06 -0500
From: Matt W <matt10019@gmail.com>
Subject: Bred Slave - Part 4

 The following is a work of fiction.  All characters are over 18 years of
age.  There are depictions of sexual acts and homoerotic themes.  Please do
not read any further if you are not legally eligible or would be offended by
the material.

CHAPTER 5 - A HOMECOMING

Ryan paused to open the door that led from the dungeon chamber back into the
main part of the basement rec room.  He tugged on my leash, and we exited
the dungeon.  Crossing the threshold, it felt strange as my bare feet pushed
into the soft carpeting outside the covered the rest of the basement floor.
Inside the dungeon I'd been thoroughly introduced to my new identity as a
slave in a setting where it made sense.  But, crossing back into the main
house, I suddenly became very conscious of the fact that I was naked,
shaved, and trailing the guy who I'd grown up with on a leash.

It felt very surreal as we made our way by the full bar, pool table, and
entertainment center.  My mind zoomed through images of the two of us
killing hours playing bool, catching a game, and sneaking shots from the
bar.  The lights were dim, and the large windows that overlooked the
sprawling back yard of the property were dark.  I realized I had no idea
what time it even was, but it was obviously night.  I had been enslaved
around 1:30 pm on Friday afternoon, so I assumed it was sometime late
on Saturday.  I couldn't have been locked in the cell for more than 36
hours, could I?

We made our way in silence through the rec area and under the arch to the
fitness room.  It was a nice little in-home gym with all the basic equipment
one would need.  Treadmill, bike, universal weight machine, bench press,
free weights.  I had expected us to take a right up the basement stairs, but
instead we turned left to the basement door that led out to the backyard.  I
nearly ran into Ryan as we stopped short at the door, the cuff chains
jingling behind me.

"I said, watch me," he growled, over his shoulder.  Pushing open the
basement door, I shivered immediately as a cold blast of wintry air swirled
inside and around my naked body.  "Brrr, gettin' cold out there.  Wish I'd
brought a jacket," he remarked, shivering himself as he gave my leash a hard
tug pulling me from the basement to the brick pathway outside.

I shivered involuntarily as I stood outside the door in the December night
air, and he pulled the door shut behind us.  Ryan's comment was laughable.
At least he had clothes on.

Finishing with the door, he gave the leash another tug for me to follow
after him up the brick steps that climbed the hill in the back of the house
from the basement to the courtyard behind the kitchen.  "Shit, boy, hurry
up.  I'm freezing my nuts off!"  He pulled harder, as he began to jog up the
steps.  I increased my pace after him, the rough cold bricks scraping my
bare feet, my balls banging wildly between my thighs.

We made our way to the top of the steps and he pulled me across the
courtyard.  At first, I wondered if we might actually be getting in his car
that was parked in the driveway.  The thought sent my heart racing in
alarm.  It was bad enough to be buck naked like this outside on private
property, but getting in a car like this for parts unknown was another thing
altogether.  So, I was mildly relieved as we turned, instead, towards the
guest house, which I'd known solely as my house for 18 years.

He pulled me past the decorative fountain in the center of the courtyard,
which had been turned off for the winter, and we stopped by the door.  My
knees were literally banging together as I shivered uncontrollably.  It
didn't help that my hair was still damp from being hosed down not long
before.  "Welcome home, slave," he remarked as he fumbled with the set of
keys in the door handle.

Miraculously the door opened and a wave of warm air beckoned me inside.  I
took a step forward.

"Not so fast," he turned abruptly to stop me with a firm hand to my chest.
I looked at him like he was crazy.  My teeth would have been chattering had
there not been a gag in my mouth.  "Get on your knees.  A slave doesn't
stride into his Master's home for the first time.  A slave enters on his
knees out of respect for his Master and his Master's property.  Inside that
door, you will never be anything more than something I own.  Now, crawl."

My legs trembling, I lowered to my knees on the cold brick outside the door,
exhaling short frigid breaths through my nose.  I felt choked up slightly,
but held back my tears as I took my first shuffle forward on my knees, and
then the next.  I was literally crawling into the home I had grown up in.
It hit me at once that it was no longer mine, not that it ever really was.
I'd never watch another game lounging on the couch, sneak a girl up the
stairs in the middle of the night, pre-game with Sean and a bottle of
whiskey in my room before a party.

Ryan tugged my leash, as I picked up my left knee and leaned forward through
the entryway.  Finally I was inside, my knees pressing hard against the
smooth tile of the entryway.  Better than brick.  "Get up," Ryan snapped,
closing the door behind me.  Warmth suddenly enveloped me, but I continued
to shiver.  "Time for a tour."

Shakily, I pushed up to one knee, and then both feet, looking to him.
Strange that he wanted to give me a tour of what used to be my own house.

He retained hold of the leash, "Follow me.  When I stop, you stop.  And
remember, slaves don't just stand around picking their ass in the presence
of their Masters, they wait respectfully for direction.  In this case, just
make sure you are facing me, spread your legs a good shoulder width apart,
and cross your wrists behind your back, not that you have the option at the
moment.  Think of it like parade rest.  If I want you to present formally or
display yourself, you'll know."

I think he wanted to test me out, so he tugged me forward leaving the entry
way and pulled me into the living room.  The guest house was relatively
small, and designed to be an open space.  The first floor consisted of the
kitchen to the right of the door, the living room to the left, and the
dining area to the back, the rooms flowing together without doors through
archways.  An open stairway ran down the center, ending relatively adjacent
to the front door.  A small bathroom was situated under the stairs.  We went
left continuing into the living room, or at least, what I remembered as the
living room.  He stopped, and I did too, spreading my legs a bit.

"Busy few days for my father's slaves.  We've remodeled a bit," he remarked
in satisfaction, placing his hands on his hips and looking around the
remodeled room.

My eyes widened.  Gone was the inexpensive pleather couch and plain wooden
coffee table  Gone was the ancient TV and the handed down entertainment
center.  In place, were two luxurious leather recliners, and a matching love
seat, all facing an impressive state of the art entertainment center, with
the largest flat screen TV I'd ever seen and an in-home theatre sound
system.  The sleek new coffee table was already covered with empty beer
cans, dirty shot glasses, and an empty bottle of scotch.  Ryan hadn't wasted
anytime christening his new bachelor pad.

"Over here," Ryan ordered as we moved through the living room to the back of
the house where the dining room once was.  The dining room always had the
best view, with large windows that overlooked the sprawling back yard and
the woods along the back perimeter of the property.  But, I barely
recognized it.  The old table and chairs had been removed.  In place, there
was a brand new pool table.  The back corner, once occupied with a china
cabinet, was now filled with a gleaming new wet bar, complete with a
mini-fridge and a sink.  The shelves were lined with top-shelf liquor. I was
in disbelief as the house had literally been transformed overnight, like in
one of those makeover shows.

"Sweet, huh?" Ryan observed, completely proud of himself.

For a moment, it sounded as if Ryan had difficulty containing his
enthusiasm, and genuinely wanted to share it with me.  Unable to really
respond, I nodded humbly, as I observed.  I was actually kind of surprised
to see the liquor so readily on display.  Mr. Grey had always been strict
with Ryan about drinking, but then, something told me Mr. Grey wouldn't be
spending much time in the guest house now that it was Ryan's.

A jerk to my collar, and we moved forward, rounding the circle until we were
in the open kitchen.  The transformation there was startling too.  The
dated appliances, fridge, dishwasher, microwave, had all been replaced with
shiny new stainless steel versions.  Otherwise, it looked relatively the
same with one exception.  A small breakfast counter had been added in
matching granite top that extended out from the counter where the stove was
towards the dining room.  There were bar stools around it, obviously
necessary since Ryan had chucked the dining room table.

At the end of the counter extension, I noticed a place mat on the floor with
two dog bowls sitting on it.  I found it curious at first, knowing that Mr.
Grey was allergic to most pets and had forbidden them in the home.

Ryan followed my eyes.  "Obviously, those are for you," he noted, letting go
of my leash so that it fell hanging down my chest, tickling my cock.  "It's
great, see," he explained excitedly as he hopped up on the bar stool nearest
to the end of the counter and spun around like a little kid.  "I'll sit here
while you serve me, and then you'll kneel down there and eat whatever I
allow you to have."

He jumped off the stool and picked up one of the bowls, walking over to the
sink he filled it up nearly to the brim with tap water.  Walking back over
to the end of the corner, he crouched to set the bowl on the floor.  Rising,
he simply snapped and pointed at the space in front of the bowls.  Taking
the cue, I reluctantly took a step forward and knelt in front of the bowls,
looking up at him for the obvious.  I bowed my head as he reached forward to
undo the gag buckle.

"I think we've kept your mouth busy for long enough..." he muttered as he
worked.  When the strap gave way, he slowly pulled the gag out.  "Your jaw
is going to be sore," he warned, stating the obvious as he pulled the gag
past my lips.  There was noticeably less saliva as my mouth had gone dry
over the course of my confinement.  "Don't speak, just work your mouth open
and closed."

He was right, I groaned in pain wincing as I closed my jaw and then opened
it.  I did so a few times, until I felt I have control of the muscles again.

"Now, what do you say?" he demanded, sharply, tossing the gag on the counter
top.

"Thank you, Sir," I croaked, my voice nearly hoarse.

"Drink," he ordered.

He didn't have to tell me twice as I thirstily dove into the water bowl
lapping and slurping at the contents, grateful as it coated my dry throat
and tongue.

While I downed the water, he stepped to the new refrigerator, opened the
door and pulled something out.  I glanced up as he walked back toward me
holding the pitcher portion of a blender filled with a frothy liquid that
looked like a smoothie...a smoothie gone wrong.  It was greenish brown.  He
knelt down and poured the contents of the pitcher into the second bowl.  It
smelled about as bad as it looked.

"You need your strength, slave," he explained, emptying the pitcher into the
bowl with a glug.  "Luckily, it's all right here in this smoothie I've
concocted.  Fruits, veggies, protein, vitamin supplements.  A well balanced
meal, one easy drink."

I picked my head up from the water bowl, a few droplets of water clinging to
my lips and chin, and looked begrudgingly at the disgusting smoothie, then
up at him.

"Don't worry, boy, I know what you're thinking and the answer is 'yes'," he
chuckled picking something up off the counter and bending back over.  He
inserted a thick plastic straw into the bowl, and held it up for me.  "Of
course you can have a straw.  Water is one thing, but I don't want my
slave's face dripping with this sludge.  Now, drink." He demanded, his tone
going cold.

"Yea..yes, Sir," I agreed quietly, leaning forward to take the straw in my
teeth and closing my eyes as I sucked in the first gulp.  "Egh!" I couldn't
contain my disgust as I jerked away from the straw, nearly gagging on the
taste.  It was indescribable.  Like rotten fruit mixed and sour milk.

Ryan held the straw up patiently.  "What's the matter?  Don't like my
cooking?" he asked in mocking, his tone then changing to something much
sharper.  "Get your fucking cuntsucking lips around this straw right now and
suck it down or I will bury your face in it.  One way or another, you are
drinking this down."

I cringed and nodded somewhat fearfully, leaning back reluctantly to take
the straw back in my mouth.  Wincing my eyes tightly I took another wretched
sip, swallowing it down, and then began to hoover it as fast as I could.  I
had to stop a few times to cough and choke, but I managed to get it down, at
least enough to satisfy him.

"Good, isn't it, slave?" Ryan suggested, taking the bowl from me.

I knelt back up, swallowing down the last of it with a big gulp.  "Yes,
Sir," I agreed, quietly.

"I knew you'd like it.  Don't worry, I'll be teaching you the recipe soon
enough."  He tossed the bowl into the sink with a clang.  "On your feet.
Tour continues upstairs."

"Yes, Sir," I mumbled quietly, pushing up to my feet as he took hold of my
leash.

He started quickly up the stairs, tugging hard at the leash so that I would
keep pace behind him.  The master bedroom was to the left, where my parents
had slept.  My room, or at least what was my room, was to the right, and the
hall bathroom, my bathroom, was also to the left across from the master
bedroom door.  The bedroom doors were closed.

We charged ahead into the master bedroom, suite really, as it took up most
of the second floor.  Like the entire first floor, it was nearly
unrecognizable.  My parents' furniture had been completely removed.  A giant
king bed was centered prominently against the wall, with a very modern and
masculine looking headboard, dressed in fluffy maroon and white bedding, the
colors of his frat.  The desk was sleek and modern, with a shiny laptop
centered on it.  Opposite the bed was a long dresser that matched the desk,
another flat screen TV situated on top.  A matching nightstand was place
beside the bed, with a modern reading light on top.  The walls were
decorated with framed mementos of his accomplishments, varsity letters,
diploma, awards, a decorative fraternity paddle, photos of him and his
father at various charity functions.

"Pretty chill, isn't it?" he remarked rhetorically, looking around as he
held tight to the leash.  "So glad to finally have my own space."

"Yes, Sir..." I agreed, somewhat longingly as I looked around.  I felt a mix
of emotions, not the least of which was jealousy at what he was afforded
without working a day in his life.  In strict contrast, not only could I not
afford any of his things, I had become one of his things.

"Need to see the best part," Ryan enthused, pulling me towards the double
doors that led to a walk-in closet.  He let go of the leash, and with some
fanfare, opened both doors simultaneously.

My eyes widened in surprise.  A wall had been constructed in the middle of
the closet, separating it into two halves.  The left side of the closet
remained in tact, a few rods lined neatly with all of his collared shirts,
suits, jackets, and pants.  Shelves for his shoes.  The right was a
different story.  Metal bars had been inset from floor to ceiling around the
perimeter of the closet, and a barred door faced front.  It was a perfect
cage, about 3' wide, 4' deep, that could be easily hidden behind the closet
door.

"It took some work, but I think it will hold you just fine," he observed,
giving the bars a shake to demonstrate how sturdy they were.  "Needed a
place to put you away with the rest of my things if I have company over."

"Yes, Sir," I acknowledged distantly, trying to picture myself in the small
cage behind the closet door listening while he fucked some naive
one-night-stand.

Abruptly, he closed the doors.  "More to see," he said, taking my leash and
pulling me back out of the room.

We didn't go into his bathroom, but I assumed it was much the same.
Whirlpool tub, shower stall, double sink.  Instead, we exited back into the
short hallway at the top of the stairs and detoured into what had been my
bathroom.  The door was open.  Actually, the door had been removed
completely.

He flipped on the light.  The door wasn't the only thing that had been
removed.  "Remodeled your bathroom too, slave," he chuckled.  "Well, my
bathroom that you get to use."  He gestured towards the sink.  All of my
things had been removed and replaced with generic everything.  Generic hand
soap, generic toothbrush and toothpaste, generic shaving cream, razor, face
wash, deodorant.  Noticeably, there were no towels or washcloths.
"Everything fit for a slave," he observed.

He tugged the leash gesturing towards the rest of the small bathroom.  I
looked around in slight confusion.  The bathmat had been removed, and so had
the shower curtain.  In place was a see through plastic liner.  Most
curiously of all, the toilet seat had been completely removed.  I looked at
him, unable to contain my confusion.

He smirked slightly, "You seem surprised, bitch?  Shouldn't be.  You already
know you aren't entitled to privacy anymore, not the least of which when you
shower or shit."  He paused, motioning toward the toilet, "Speaking of
which, slaves aren't entitled to sit on a man's toilet seat.  No one wants
to share a toilet seat with your dirty ass.  In any other bathroom, you will
lift the seat and sit directly on the bowl.  Since this is the one you'll
use most often, I went ahead and took it away completely, just to save you
the trouble.  Nice of me, right?"

I nodded, my voice feeling small in the back of my throat as I contemplated
shitting bare-assed on the toilet bowl, him watching from the doorway.
"Yes, Sir..."

"We'll go over your hygiene tomorrow," he warned, tugging at my leash to
follow him out of the bathroom.  "And, in case you're wondering, any of my
guests will be told that this bathroom is out of order.  I don't want any of
my friends sharing a bathroom with a piece of shit slave."

"Yes, Sir," I agreed, dishearteningly.

"Last stop," Ryan announced, opening the door to my room and pulling me
inside and flipping the light switch which illuminated a single bare bulb
from a floor lamp.

My mouth dropped slightly as I looked around.  It looked familiar, but not
because it had once been my room, but because it reminded me very much of
the way Ali's room had been transformed in Kara's apartment.  The windows
were blacked out.  My walls were stripped bare, and unlike Ali's, so was my
twin-sized bed.  Not even a mattress pad remained.  There was a pillow
though, one of those tiny ones you get on an airplane.  My dresser was gone
completely, as was my TV.  Although my desk was still there, all of the
drawers had been removed.  My laptop sat closed on top, cable-locked to the
desk, like Ali's.  Though, there was no chair, or even a stool.  And that
was it.  A latch had been installed on the outside of my closet door, and it
had been padlocked.

"This isn't your room anymore," Ryan explained. "It's the place in my house
where I let my slave sleep," he smirked, adding quickly, "Sometimes."

"Yes, Sir," I acknowledge vacantly as I swallowed hard.  It was difficult to
absorb as I looked around in shock.  It was official.  Everything had been
taken from me. Everything.

"Your clothes have been locked away, what hasn't been thrown away anyway.
You won't need them for awhile," he chuckled darkly, unclipping the leash
from my collar.  "Display your cock," he snapped suddenly, changing the
tone.

I hesitated, the order catching me off guard.  "Uh, yes, Sir," I mumbled.

Without missing a beat, he took the leather end of the leash and whipped it
across my chest with a loud snap against my skin.  I yelped in surprise, the
lash stinging my sensitive skin. "Louder!  Enough of your fucking mumbling,
dickwad. YES. SIR," he emphasised each word with another light whip of the
leash.

I winced, absorbing each of the two lashes into my stomach.  "Yes! Sir!" I
called out loudly into the room.

"Now, display your fucking slave cock!" he barked.

"Yes, Sir!"  Scrambling, I spread my legs wide, arched my back, bent my
knees, and thrust my hips forward, giving him full access to my junk.  It
was humiliating, even more so now than it had been in the dungeon.  Now, I
was here in what used to be my room, willingly giving my manhood up.

Ryan didn't say anything else as he reached forward and seized what now
belonged to him.  He gave my balls a good squeeze as he rolled them around
in his hand, soliciting a grunt from me.  His hand ran up and down my cock
for a few strokes, and then he swung my dick around between my legs,
swatting it back and forth.  I got harder with each swat, wincing slightly.
He stopped suddenly, and I could hear him rustling in his pocket as I stared
up at the ceiling.

"It's a shame really..." he observed, as he gave my cock a few more quick
strokes to bring me to a near full erection, and then took hold of my cock
and balls at the base in one hand.  I then felt something hard pressing
against the the head of my cock, really around it.  He grunted a bit,
breathing hard as he forced the seemingly metal ring down the shaft of my
cock, stopping at the balls.  My cock seemed to magically get harder as the
ring slowed the circulation of blood in my shaft.  He grabbed my balls, and
I winced as he popped each of my testicles through the ring until it was
secure about the base of both my cock and my scrotum.

He shook his head, adjusting the ring.  "Yeah, real shame.  Perfectly good
jock dick wasted here.  Slaves don't get to use these."  He flicked my hard
cock for emphasis, "At least, not like a man does.  That cock ring will help
you remember who owns your dick, and more importantly, why you're not
allowed to touch it.  Now, get your ass on that bed!"

I swallowed hard, already feeling horny with my cock mostly hard and bobbing
before me, the ring pushing my full balls forward.  "Yes, Sir," I said as I
looked cautiously to the bed, well mattress, and pushed up on my right knee,
and then the left.

"On your stomach," Ryan snapped.  He reached under me to pull my cock and
balls downward as I slid forward on my chest until my stomach was flat, the
mattress material itchy against my skin as my cock pointed down towards me
feet.  "Spread your legs, feet to the edge of the bed."

I inched my legs apart as instructed, until they almost hung off the edges
of the small bed.  He walked to the head of the bed, and lifted my chin
slightly, sliding the airline pillow under my head.

"It's after midnight, bitch," Ryan observed, glancing at his expensive
watch.  "I suggest you take advantage of this time to get get some rest.  A
slave's day begins at 4:00am.  Everyday.  No exceptions."

"Yes, Sir," I answered, numbly, my voice muffled in the pillow.

"Good, boy," he said in mocking, giving my bare ass a light slap as he
headed toward the door.  "It goes without saying, the door locks from the
outside, but I'll also be nice and give you fair warning that this room has
been wired with closed circuit cameras.  Remember, it's a cell, not a
sanctuary."

With that, the light went out and the door slammed leaving me alone in the
room that once belonged to me.  Despite the humiliation, the handcuffs, the
collar around my neck, the ache in my cock, I felt home.  The feeling alone
was enough to send me off to sleep, my exhausted body grateful for the
modicum of comfort provided by the mattress and pillow.

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