Date: Mon, 16 Feb 2009 03:59:22 -0500
From: Matt W <matt10019@gmail.com>
Subject: Bred Slave - Part 6

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 7 - SLAVES WORK, MASTERS PLAY

I winced as a droplet of bacon grease jumped from the small pan on the stove
in front of me where three strips were sizzling and stung my bare chest.
Nervously, I glanced at the clock.  It was 10:53, and I knew I only had 7
minutes to finish preparing Ryan's breakfast.  Fumbling with a spatula, I
set it on the counter, and fished two slices of bread out of a bag and into
the toaster.

Wiping a bead of sweat form my forehead, I glanced again at the clock on the
microwave.  I couldn't believe how fast the time had gone.  Replaying the
past several hours in my mind, I had picked up three huge bags full of
trash, dusted every bit of surface I could find, scrubbed the kitchen
counters and floors, cleaned the bathroom from top to bottom, fluffed the
cushions and pillows, everything I could think of.

The chains had made it difficult, slowed me down.  Every action took longer
and more thought.  I was tired, aching from bending and scrubbing and
kneeling and reaching in all directions.  Dried sweat from my run was mixed
with new sweat from cleaning.  I felt disgusting as I continued to prepare
Ryan's breakfast as ordered.  Cleaning while naked had been odd enough, but
cooking while naked and chained felt even stranger.

Several minutes later, I was just laying the two pieces of toast on the
plate next to the strips of bacon and a light pile of scrambled eggs when I
heard movement at the top of the stairs.  I felt myself tense as I set the
plate on the counter in front of the stool Ryan had designated as his, and
glanced over my shoulder as he came bounding down the stairs.  He was
shirtless and barefoot again, still wearing the same pajama pants as he had
on earlier that morning, and although it was evident that he had just
crawled out of bed, he was noticeably more rested than he had been at 4:00
am.  Uncertainly, I kind of froze as I was.

"What are you looking at, dick wad?  When I walk into a room, you better
fucking show me some respect," he barked, barely glancing at me as he
brushed by me into the kitchen.

"Yes, Sir," I said quietly, as I turned to face him, straightening my
posture with my wrists by my hips as he'd instructed me earlier, the chain
taught across my waist.  I bowed my head slightly, glancing to the plate of
food waiting for him on the counter.

"Breakfast," he stated, rather dryly as he pulled open a cupboard door and
pulled out a box of generic whole-grain cereal.  Turning toward me, he
snapped and pointed to the place mat and half-empty dog bowl full of room
temperature tap water at the end of the counter.  Silently, I shuffled a few
paces and knelt in front of the bowl.  Coming over to me, he bent over my
shoulder and shook out about a cup of the dry, tasteless clusters of cereal
into the water.  I frowned, looking down at the chunks floating in the
cloudy water, but feeling a familiar rumble in my stomach, I started to lean
forward only to be stopped with a firm slap to my forehead.  "No.  Slaves
eat after their Masters are finished, and only when given permission.  Like
I said earlier, I might let you eat."

"Yes, Sir," I said, dejectedly, as I straightened up, and ground my back
teeth slightly, feeling a bit of frustration welling in the pit of my
stomach.

Ryan set the box on the counter, and slid onto the stool at the end of the
counter.  "Besides," he snickered, "I want to make sure it's nice and soggy
for you, just the way you like it."

With that, he attacked his breakfast like he hadn't eaten in days.  I half
expected him to spit it out or gag in disgust.  Instead, he said nothing as
he shoveled a few forkfuls of eggs into his mouth, and then chewed on a
piece of bacon.  I suppose the silence made him uncomfortable, because he
suddenly lunged across the counter and grabbed the remote to a small flat
screen at the opposite end of the counter.  I heard the TV spring to life,
and he channel surfed for several long minutes while he continued to eat,
all but ignoring me completely.

I knelt awkwardly staring down at the bowl of soggy brown cereal while he
scraped his fork against the plate, turning the volume up on some sports
station.  Then his cellphone vibrated loudly on the counter.  The volume on
the TV was muted.

"Dude?" he answered loudly, pressing the phone to his ear.  "Yeah, no, just
got up.  What's going on?"  I couldn't hear the other end of the
conversation, but I knew in all likelihood it was Brent.  "No, yeah, totally
still on for the game.  Starts at 1, right?  Cool.  See ya in a bit."  The
phone snapped shut and he tossed it back on the counter.  I heard him push
the plate away and hop off of the stool.  "Alright, hoover that shit.  You
have a mess to clean up in the kitchen."

It took me a second to register that he had turned his attention back to
me.  "Yes, Sir," I acknowledged quietly as I leaned over to slurp at the
slimy bits of tasteless cereal.

"Shit," he exclaimed in disgust as he turned the volume on the small TV back
up. "Tone it down, bitch.  Hope you didn't slurp pussy like that.  No wonder
the only girlfriend you could ever keep was the one ordered to be with
you."  My face burned red as I continued to lap at the cereal, trying to
ignore the insult while he snickered to himself.  "Alright, clean this shit
up.  As soon as you're done, get your ass upstairs.  Take a shit, I know you
need to by now.  Then start getting yourself cleaned up.  Teeth, face.
Don't think about showering until I give you permission."

He placed his strong hand on the back of my head while I knelt in front of
the bowl, water dripping from my nose and bits of wet cereal clinging to my
stubble.  He gave my hair a rough pet, and shoved me forward just to
emphasize his control.  "Yes, Sir," I responded quietly.

I heard him bound up the stairs, and I pushed up to my feet before starting
in on the mess in the kitchen.  As I scraped the remainder of Ryan's
breakfast into the garbage disposal, it occurred to me that he hadn't
acknowledged the fact that I'd prepared his food in any way.  It was just
what he had been entitled to demand, and I guessed that the fact that he ate
it without complaining was acknowledgement enough.

When the kitchen was clean, I climbed the stairs to the second level.  My
chains were really starting to grate on my nerves, especially on the
stairs.  Entering my bathroom, I'd nearly forgotten that the door and the
toilet seat had been removed.  Nevertheless, almost at the sight of the
toilet, my guts churned, and I quickly squatted down on the rim of the bowl
to expel several days worth of waste from my intestines.  Nervously, I
glanced to the open doorway, fearing Ryan would walk by at any moment.  He
didn't, but simply knowing that he could was embarrassing enough.  Wiping
myself with shackled hands was as humiliating as it was difficult.  Even the
most basic of functions were now at the mercy of my Master.

Flushing, I stood up and set about brushing my teeth and washing my face
with the new, generic products that Ryan had provided.  It felt good just to
feel clean inside my mouth, and to wash the sweat and grime from my face.

"The face," Ryan stated as he appeared suddenly at the doorway.  "Shave it.
I never want to see that much facial hair on you again.  Men grow beards,
not slaves."

"Yes, Sir," I sighed as I reached for the can of shaving cream.

WHACK!

I lurched forward, wincing in pain as his bare palm connected with my bare
ass.

"Check the attitude, cunt."

"Yes, Sir," I repeated, more respectfully.

He watched intently as I lathered my face with the cream, and ran the cheap
razor over my sensitive skin, scraping away the light growth of hair.

"Face me, hold out your wrists," he commanded as soon as I set the razor
down on the counter.

"Yes, Sir."  I did as commanded.  Without a word, he took my right wrist and
freed the cuff, and then the left.  He tossed the shackles in the hallway
with a clang, and then squatted down to free my ankles.  Most surprising of
all, he stood and fiddled with the collar around my neck until he could
reach the lock.  Moments later, I felt it unhinge around my neck and he
pulled it away, setting it on the sink.

"Don't get excited, slave," he warned, as he gripped my shoulders and spun
me around to face the shower.  "Get in the tub."  He pulled the clear
plastic curtain aside and allowed me to step in.  "Get down.  Display your
ass."

"Yes, Sir."  Nervously, I knelt down in the confines of the tub, put my
chest to the cool ceramic floor and lifted my ass, pulling my cheeks
gingerly apart as I'd been instructed in the dungeon.  I heard him rummaging
in the cabinet under the sink, and then I heard the faucet run for a minute
or so.

"Know what an enema is?"  Ryan asked, as I heard him squat down at the edge
of the tub.

"Uh...yes.  Yes, Sir...?"  I stammered, swallowing as I stared at the floor
of the tub.  I gasped slightly as I felt something cool and hard at my
puckering exposed asshole.

"Of course you do, douchebag," he snickered as he pushed the tip gently into
my rectum, and held it there.  "A slave should always be clean, inside and
out," he continued.  Suddenly, I felt a rush of water flow into my guts and
I grunted, squirming involuntarily.  "Hold still...take it," Ryan coaxed as
the water continued to flow into me.

I gasped and groaned, feeling my stomach cramping as my guts filled with
water.  After several moments, when I felt like I couldn't take another drop
without bursting, I felt the water stop flowing.

"Good.  Now, I'm going to take the hose out.  I want you to clench tight,
hold it in," he warned as I felt the nozzle slip out of my hole and I
clenched tight.  "Every fucking drop until I say."

I nodded, wincing my eyes shut as I held the water in my cramped belly.
"Yeh....yes, Sir," I whispered as I felt the nozzle slide out of my ass.  I
clamped my anus shut, squeezing my cheeks together as best I could, feeling
the water sloshing around inside me, wanting nothing more than to come out.

Ryan expelled a long sigh while he waited and I trembled in the tub.
"Starting tomorrow, you'll be giving these to yourself.  Do you have any
idea how lucky you are to have a real man douche out your ass for you?  I
don't want to deal with this fucking shit...your fucking shit.  It's your
job to keep your slave ass clean from now on.  Got it?"

"Yes, Sir," I spat quickly, between gasps of holding my breath while I held
the water inside.

"Okay, let it go," he commanded.

"Yes, Sir," I gasped, gratefully unclenching my ass to allow a small
waterfall of murky water to gush from my hole into the tub behind me.  The
warm water rushed forward towards the drain washing over my hands and knees
pressed to the base of the tub.  I squirmed uncomfortably.

"Kneel up," Ryan snapped.  Take this.  Before I could respond, he was
pushing the enema bag and hose into my hands.  I looked at it curiously.
"Fill it up, to there," he indicated the amount with his finger.  "Warm
water."

"Yes, Sir."  My hands trembled a bit as I turned on the faucet in the tub,
testing the water, and then filled up the bag as directed.

"Hang it up there," Ryan continued, gesturing to a wire shelf fixed beneath
the shower head.  "Take the nozzle in your right hand, turn around to put
your ass toward the bag, lean forward again and work the nozzle into your
ass."

"Ye'sir," I mumbled as I hung the bag up with its hook and turned around in
the tub.  I leaned forward sticking my ass back up in the air, and put both
hands at my ass, using the tip of the nozzle to prod around my crack until I
touched my hole.  I could feel Ryan leaning over me to watch.

"Good.  There, now push it in...that's it bitch," he coaxed as I felt the
nozzle slide back inside me.  "Alright, feel that little lever on the base
of the nozzle?  Push it with your thumb.  That'll start the flow...Take all
of it."

"Yes, Sir."  I swallowed and flipped the lever, feeling the now familiar
sensation of water flowing into my guts.  Grunting, I squirmed as the water
continued to flow for a long minute.

"Okay, looks like you got it..." Ryan noted.  "So, you know what to do.
Lose the nozzle, and hold it in.  Count to 100, nice and slow.  Then you can
let it go."

"Yes, Sir," I gasped uncomfortably as I pulled the nozzle out and clamped my
hole shut, starting to count in my head.

"Out loud, dumbass."

"Yes, Sir...1...2...3..." It actually helped to count out loud, as it gave
me something to focus on besides the painful cramping in my guts and the
humiliation of douching myself in front of another guy.
"...98...99...100!"  Then, a second cascade of water exploded out of my ass,
rushing down the back of my legs, and swirled towards the tub drain.

"On your feet but stay in the tub.  Display," Ryan snapped.

"Yes, Sir," I murmured as I pushed up from all fours to my feet, some of my
ass juice still running down my legs.  I could feel my cheeks flushing a
little as I turned to face him fully, remembering the command.  I
straightened my posture, spread my legs widely in the tub, and put my hands
behind my head.

He ran his hands quickly over my upper body in a quick inspection, paying
special attention to my armpits and stomach.  "Hmmm, I think we're still
pretty good," he mused as he kneaded his fingers intently on various areas
of my torso and underarms, before moving down to my genitals, still
encircled with the metal cock ring.  He fingered the skin of my scrotum
between two fingers.  "Here too.  Yeah, starting tomorrow, you'll be shaving
the areas I trimmed for you as part of your routine. Pits, stomach, ass,
crotch."  He gave my balls a painful squeeze before letting them go, and
turned around to quickly retrieve something from the cabinet under the
sink.  Holding the items up to show me, he continued, "Body razor and some
nice girly shaving gel for you."  He smirked, setting them on the wire rack
under the shower head.  "And if I find any stray hairs, I will pluck them
one by one until you learn to do it right.  Got it?"

"Yes, Sir," I nodded, pathetically at the thought of shaving my body hair
daily.

"For now, you get to clean yourself up because you fucking reek.  Here," he
bent forward and pointed to a piece of duct tape affixed to the tile wall
near the handle of the faucet.  "You don't turn the temperature past this
line.  Ever.  I'm not fucking wasting hot water on a slave."

"Yes, Sir."  I swallowed slightly, remembering the icy shards of cold water
from the hose in the dungeon, but hopefully he wouldn't be that cruel.

"And, here," he continued, pointing to a generic looking plastic bottle.
"All in one shower gel.  Soap, shampoo, all you need.  And, if I ever catch
you dawdling in the the shower, and even worse, jerking off, all of your
showers will be in the backyard under the hose.  You get in, you soap up,
you rinse off, you get out. Got it, cunt?"

"Yes, Sir."  I nodded.

"Good.  Then do it.  I don't have all day for this shit."

He whipped the clear plastic curtain shut encasing me in the shower as I
leaned forward to start the flow of water.  I turned the handle until it was
in line with the duct tape, and tested the temperature of the water with my
hand.  It wasn't hot, barely warm, but at least it wasn't freezing.  I
started the flow of water from the shower head and lurched as it rained down
on my bare skin from above.  It may not have been cold, but it certainly
felt cold, nothing like the long hot showers I was accustomed to taking.  I
turned, giving my sweat stained body a quick rinse, until Ryan cleared his
throat in warning, and I jumped to take the bottle of shower gel.

Fumbling with the cap, I squeezed a generous amount onto my palm and
lathered it slightly between my fingers.  Instinctively, I gave it a whiff,
and my nose scrunched.  It had a strong, masculine, yet almost alcoholic,
scent.  Putting the bottle down, I worked the lather quickly into my damp
hair.  It felt strange, my hair suddenly much shorter that it had been in
quite a long time.  In no time at all, I was thoroughly shampooed and
rinsed.

Picking up the bottle again, I deposited another pool of gel into my palm,
and soon after was working it over my bare skin, rinsing as I went.

"Faster!" Ryan barked, from where he was leaning against the doorway.  "This
isn't the spa."

I jumped, having forgotten momentarily that the shower curtain was perfectly
see-through, and increased the pace in which I ran my soapy hands over my
skin.  When I got to my crotch, I soaped my cock and balls quickly, noting
how odd it felt to slide the suds over the shaved area, sliding some of the
suds under the metal cock ring with my finger tip.

"Enough!  Hands off," he interjected again, "Don't forget your ass crack."

Almost sighing in frustration, I ran my soapy right hand up and down my
shaved ass crack and bent over to soap up my legs.  No sooner had I rinsed
them off, did the plastic curtain slide quickly open and Ryan's hand was
reaching in to shut off the water.  He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of
the tub so quickly that I nearly tripped over the side of the tub.  My wet
feet slipped on the tile floor, but he caught me with both arms, holding me
upright until I had my balance.  I was shivering as the cool water droplets
fell from my skin.

"Here," he said, handing me a small, white hand towel, well, more like a
rag.  It was one of those cheap towels that bartenders use to wipe down
their bars, and it had clearly been used before.  "Towel off quickly, the
rest will air dry."

"Yes, Sir."  I took the towel hesitantly, and began to run the scratchy
fabric over my limbs, wiping as much of the water as I could from my body,
as the towel dampened very quickly.  By the time I'd finished with my chest
and stomach, it was all but soaked and unusable.

Ryan ripped the wet towel from my grasp.  "You'll air dry," he snickered, as
he wound the wet towel up quickly by twirling his wrist, and then without
warning, snapped it against my bare ass.

"Fuck!"  I exclaimed, lurching forward and grabbing my stinging ass without
thinking twice.

"Fuck?!" Ryan yelled, his voice rising angrily.  "Who the FUCK do you think
you're talking to?"  Almost in rage, he grabbed my arm, twisted it behind my
back, and spun me around until I was pinned up against the wall.  "Put your
fucking hands up against the wall, and stick your fucking pussy-ass out!"

I grunted slightly at the rough treatment, and before I could even reply, he
was whipping my ass with the wet towel over and over again.  My hands were
braced so hard against the wall, that my knuckled were turning white and I
could feel tears uncontrollably welling in my eyes as I absorbed blow after
blow of the towel whip.  I was practically dancing from left foot to right
foot up against the wall as I tried to squirm my ass away from the next
relentless lash.

"Hold. Fucking. Still," Ryan barked, emphasizing each word with another flog
of the wet towel.

"Gah!" I couldn't help but scream out as the towel stung my ass.

"What a fucking pussy," he remarked flatly, as the flogging suddenly
stopped.  "Don't fucking move a muscle."  I didn't, or tried not to anyway
as I trembled, bracing myself against the wall.  I heard him behind me, and
clenched my ass in anticipation of another round of flogging.  Instead, I
felt the heavy collar slide around my neck from behind, and the ominous
click of the lock.  "Shit. I take this off for two seconds and you already
forget what you are?"  He gave the collar and shake, and then grabbed my
shoulders and spun me around roughly to face him.  "What are you?"

I glanced to him, and then diverted my eyes quickly and swallowed.  As the
weight of the collar once again pressed down on my neck and shoulders, I
choked back the sobs in the back of my throat that had threatened to escape
during the towel-thrashing. "I...I don't know," I mumbled quietly.

Without warning, his bare palm slapped across my face.  "Don't give me
that shit.  What. Are. You?"

My head reeled to the side, the sting of the slap burning my left cheek, and
I was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion.  I really couldn't explain why, in
that exact moment, I broke down.  I had made it through the night, the
morning run, the housework, the enemas, and now I lost it.  The tears that
had been welling up, escaped from my eyes and began to run down my cheeks.
 I felt my lip quivering, as I choked out a few sobs.  "Ryan...please, come
on. I..."

SLAP!

His left hand connected with my right cheek.  I yelped in shock.
Apparently, my tears were earning me no sympathy.  "Ry..."  I started again.

SLAP!  SLAP!

My head reeled back and forth with more slaps.  Instinctively, I brought my
arms up to shield my face.

"That's it," he snapped coldly. "I don't know what the FUCK is running
through that dumbass brain of yours right now...we clearly have a lot more
work to do than I thought.  But, you better get this through your thick
skull really fucking quick.  I'm not your roommate, I'm not your friend, I'm
not your bro. I'm your Master.  And that is how you better start seeing me
and treating me, with every word.  Every action.  Got it, bitch?"

I nodded, his words drilling into me, as I sniffed back more tears.
"Yeh...yes, Sir."

Grabbing my wrists and shoving my arms down to my sides, he growled in my
face, "Now, what are you?"

Bowing my head pathetically, I spoke quietly. "A slave."

"Whose slave?"

"You..yours, Sir."

"Who else's?" he demanded.

I looked up at him, almost in surprise, momentarily forgetting that Ryan
shared ownership of me with his father.  "Mr...Master Grey's, Sir."

Ryan lifted my chin slightly so that I could see his eyes.  He smirked
slightly. "And, remind me again, slave, why are you here?"

I looked at him quizzically.  "Because...I signed the contract, Sir."

"Why?" he challenged.

"Because...I had no choice, Sir."

Ryan shook his head in disagreement.  "That's a lie, but fine.  Why?  Why
didn't you have a choice?"

"Because..." my voice trailed, as the events of the past few days quickly
replayed in my mind.  My chores, my time in the dungeon, Kara, Ali, my
parents.  My parents.  I looked back at him. "Because, I was born to, Sir,"
I said quietly, with a hint of sadness.

He smiled, and patted my left cheek.  "Good, slave.  You're not completely
hopeless.  Now, get your ass in my room.  My bed needs to be made.  Neatly.
When you're done, I want you to stand in front of it, bend over, and display
your ass to the door and wait.  I have to run downstairs, but you better be
in position when I get back."

"Yes, Sir." I nodded, as he grabbed my arm and shoved me out of the
bathroom, stumbling into the hallway.

He brushed by me on his way to the steps, and I turned to his room.  Walking
in, I frowned in jealousy, at the messy swirl of soft sheets and fluffy down
comforter that were piled on top of the huge bed.  In contrast to my shitty
bare mattress, it was like a maroon cloud.  I ran around the bed several
times tugging the sheets, fluffing the comforte  and then the pillows until
I thought the bed looked pretty good.  Glancing over my shoulder, I could
hear footsteps on the steps, so I quickly walked to the end of the bed so
that I was facing the wall, spread my legs, and bent forward.  Shamefully, I
grabbed my ass cheeks, and displayed my freshly douched ass to the door.

I heard him breeze in behind me, and toss something onto his bed.  "Brent's
coming over," Ryan explained casually, as he ran his hands roughly over my
back and ass, sliding his finger up and down my crack quickly.  I trembled,
both from the touch and the fear of what he meant by that statement.  "Gonna
watch the game."

Swallowing, I took a few short nervous breaths.  "Yes, Sir..?"

He chuckled.  "What?  Thinking about what's gonna happen when he sees you
like this?"

I nodded, bent over over between my legs.  "Yeh...yes, Sir."

"Don't.  You're not ready for him to see you.  Would only embarrass me.
But," he gave my ass a pat, and then leaned past me to retrieve something he
had set down on the bed.  "Gotta keep my slave busy.  More specifically, my
slave's cunt."

With that, I felt something hard and wet prodding at my exposed asshole, and
it wasn't an enema nozzle.  I gasped slightly as it began to press in.

"Relax.  It's just a butt plug, pretty small at that," he explained.  "Take
a deep breath, and relax your ass.  1...2..."

"Gah!" I exclaimed, as the plug suddenly pushed in, my sphincter clamping
shut around the base.

"Good, now stand up."

"Yes, Sir."  Slowly, I lifted my head up until I was upright, feeling the
plug with every movement.

"We don't want it falling out now," Ryan noted, as he circled something
leather around my waist, like a belt.  "A butt plug harness."

He fed a leather strap from the back of the belt along my ass crack and then
under my legs where it split into two straps that ran on either side of my
cock and then back up to the front of the belt.  The straps locked to the
belt in the front with tiny padlocks.  The butt plug was going no where.

Taking my arm, he walked me briskly over to the closet he had shown me the
day before.  He opened the door to reveal the hidden cage, and flipped on
the light.  He opened the bar door and shoved me inside.  "Sit down.  Face
me."  I turned around, and slowly sank to the hard floor of the tall but
narrow cage.  Ryan pulled my leg shackles out from behind him and quickly
fastened them back around each of my ankles.  "Wrists," he commanded, and I
held out my fists.

In moments, my hands were reshackled as well, but he wasn't done.  He
grabbed the chain between my wrists, and then produced a large padlock which
he used to lock my wrist chain to my ankles.  I would be stuck as I was,
bent forward, unable to stand.

Still, he wasn't done.  "Open," he demanded, producing a phallic shaped
rubber gag, much like the one I'd worn in the dungeon.  Reluctantly, I
parted my lips and he shoved the black rubber deep into my mouth.  "Don't
want to risk drawing Brent's attention up here, do you?" he asked.  I shook
my head no, as if gagging me was some kind of a favor.  "Didn't think so."

Ryan stood up and slammed the cage door shut.  I jumped as it rattled around
me.  He left the closet door open and without another word, set about
getting himself together.  He walked around the room, pulling jeans and
underwear out of his dresser, picking a t-shirt out of another drawer,
all as if I wasn't there watching.  He disappeared into his bathroom and I
could hear the shower spring to life, during which time I did my best to get
as comfortable as I could on the floor of the cage.  I managed to shuffle
backwards enough to lean against the back wall of the cage, but even the
plug in my ass wasn't enough to distract me from the discomfort of cramping
limbs.

What seemed like 15 or 20 minutes later, Ryan emerged from the bathroom in a
cloud of steam, a towel wrapped around his waist.  He stood in front of his
dresser, dropped the towel revealing his muscled backside to me, and then
dressed quickly in his boxers, jeans and pulled the t-shirt over his head.
He gave his damp hair a quick towel dry and tossed the towel on the floor
near the bathroom.

His phone rang on the dresser and he picked it up.  "Yeah, man?"  He paced
back across the room, not even so much as glancing in my direction.  "Cool,
I'll see you when you get here."  Snapping the phone shut, he tossed it on
the bed and walked towards me.

"Mmph?!" I exclaimed into the gag suddenly, lurching forward.  The plug in
my ass began to vibrate, rattling violently inside my rectum, and then it
stopped.

Ryan snickered, holding up a small black remote control.  "Did I forget to
mention that it vibrates?"

My eyes popped open as the plug sprang to life again in my ass, and I
squirmed uncomfortably, trying involuntarily to shit it out.  It didn't
hurt, exactly, but it felt unnatural and invasive and humiliating.

He held up the remote again and clicked the button off.  "Listen carefully,
the game starts in about a half hour.  You're not going to watch, of course,
but you're not going to be up here sleeping either.  I want you awake and
focused on your slavery, and just to make sure, when the game is over and
after Brent leaves, I'm going to come back here and ask you how many points
were scored during the game, and I suggest you get it right, because if
you're off by one point, you will be punished."

I raised an eyebrow as I looked up at him through the bars like he was
insane.

Gripping the bars that made up the cage door, he gave it a little shake to
test the hold, and chuckled.  "I'm not expecting you to be psychic,
dumbass.  Every time points are scored, for either team, I'm going to let
you know with this," he held up the control, and flipped the vibrator back
on.  "1...2...3, and off."  He clicked the remote again and the vibrator
stopped.  "Of course, you'll need to keep a running tally of seconds the
plug vibrates in your ass over the course of the game.  One second for one
point.  Understood?"

"Mmph..." I muttered into the gag, nodding my head reluctantly.  It didn't
seem too difficult.

"So, don't fuck it up," he barked, stepping back from the door.  Pausing, he
glared down at me, "And, this goes without saying cunt, but I suggest you
keep your movements to a minimum.  Brent's not going to know you're here,
but if he hears something coming from upstairs, I may not stop him from
finding out what it is."

With that, he slammed the closet door shut, flipping off the light, leaving
me in the darkness of the cage.  I panicked for a minute, recalling
instantly the same feeling I'd had when I was locked in the dungeon cell.
For the time being, I was completely helpless, gagged, and immobile.  At
least this time, I was more confident that I would be freed before the night
was out.  My only real concern was keeping track of time the plug vibrated
in my ass, and keeping quiet enough to avoid drawing attention to myself.

Getting comfortable again, well as comfortable as I could get, I began to
mull over the idea of Ryan outing me as his slave to Brent, or anyone else
for that matter.  He couldn't be serious, yet I had no way of knowing what
his intentions were.  There were no assurances of anything anymore, only
that I was subject to the wills of Ryan and Mr. Grey.

Moments later, I tensed, hearing a bit of faint commotion through the walls
and the floor as Brent had evidently arrived.  It quieted down quickly, and
I couldn't make out any further sounds.

Time began to crawl by, and I even felt myself beginning to doze.  Suddenly,
the plug roared to life in my ass, and my eyes popped open.
"1...2...3...4...5...6," I counted to myself.  A minute later, the plug
vibrated again, but just for an instant.  "Extra point.  7."  Not so hard.

Hours later, I was in a pure panic.  After the first touchdown, the game
must have ground to a halt.  Then suddenly, it was a scoring frenzy.  Two
field goals.  Another touchdown.  Another field goal.  Another touchdown,
well, I think.  Was that an extra point or a field goal?  Not to mention,
every time the plug began to vibrate, I was thrown into a physical frenzy.
At first, it was pure discomfort, but as the game went on, it began to feel
almost good.  Like scratching an itch that I couldn't otherwise.  In fact,
it was the only thing that felt good.  My legs were cramped from sitting as
I was.  My lower back and shoulders ached from hunching forward with no
relief.

After awhile, the vibrating stopped completely.  The game had to be over by
now, but still no Ryan.  More time went by, and I waited in aching
frustration.  Just as I was dozing again, my head bobbing slightly forward,
the closet door flew open and the light flooded the space around me.  I
looked up to see a smirking Ryan, as he fiddled with the cage door until it
was unlocked and open.  Squatting down in front of me, he reached behind me
to unfasten the gag, pulling it unceremoniously from my mouth.

"Well?" he asked, wiping the dripping saliva from the gag across my chest,
as I stretched my jaw painfully.  His breath reeked of beer, and his eyes
were a little bloodshot.

"Thirty...three, Sir," I said hoarsely, trying to sound confident but
praying that I had counted correctly.

Ryan smirked, and shook his head.  "Nope. 37, dumbass.  Either you dozed
off, when I told you not to, or you just can't fucking count."  He leaned
forward and unlocked the padlock that locked my wrists to my ankles.  "And
now, you'll have to suffer for that.  Up."  He took my arm and pulled me
forward, helping me to my feet unsteadily.  "But first, you have a mess to
clean up downstairs.  Get to it, and then wait on your knees by your
bowl for your dinner  Lucky for you, Brent and I had pizza so I don't need
you to make me anything."

"Yes, Sir," I responded in defeat, and shuffled out of the room back down
the steps to clean up Ryan's mess for the second time that day.  The
vibrator sprang to life in my ass, and would continue to do so at random
intervals while I cleaned.

I finished clearing the living room of more beer bottles, plates, napkins
and an empty box of pizza.  After picking up crumbs and wiping down the
coffee table, I returned to the kitchen to wait.  Eventually, Ryan joined me
int he kitchen, and gave me a tutorial on the makeup of my liquid meal as he
made it.  It was a disgusting combination of raw vegetables, tomato juice,
raw eggs, an array of supplemental powders, milk, and ice, all blended
together.  I nearly gagged again as he poured it into my bowl and forced me
to slurp it down through the straw.  The butt plug vibrated inside me the
entire time I ate.

After dinner, I was ordered to my slave room to wait in display.  I stood in
front of my bed, well mattress, facing the door.  My chained hands were
behind my head, and my legs were spread as wide as the ankle chain allowed
as I waited nervously for Ryan to retrieve something from his room.

He returned, holding a small ping pong paddle which he swatted lightly
against his palm.  "You were 4 points off, slave," he began, coldly.  "Do
you know what that says to me?  It says that you weren't focused.  Your mind
was wandering," he paused, stepping closer to me.  "You need to understand
that when that plug was vibrating in your ass, that was me in there.  Me
giving you attention, direction.  Letting you know that you should be
counting, up here."  He emphasized his thought by bopping my forehead
lightly with the paddle.

"Yes, Sir.  I...I'm sorry, Sir." I stammered.

"I don't want you to feel sorry.  I want you to feel pain."  With that, he
took a step back, snapped his wrist down, and slapped the paddle against my
exposed balls.

"AGHN!" I yelped, staggering backwards as pain rocketed up my groin and into
my abdomen from the surprise assault.

He reached out to steady me, as I involuntarily started to move my hands
over my head to comfort my groin.  "No, keep your hands behind your head,
and keep upright.  You deserve this.  Take it like a slave."

WHACK.

"UGHNN!" I grit my teeth, tensing all of my muscles as another burst of pain
exploded in my groin.  I felt tears welling in my eyes.

WHACK.

I yelped, staggering again, as he held me steady with his left hand.
"Please...Ry...Sir!"

"If you insist," he smirked, delivering a fourth whack to my balls.

I cried out in pain, wincing back tears as I shook, feeling like I was going
to vomit.

"Four points, four whacks.  Next time, you'll remember to focus," he
remarked coldly, releasing his grip on my trembling arm.  "Now, thank me for
punishing you."

I looked at him shamefully through my tears, a mix of fear and hate in my
eyes, and maybe even a hint of anger.  "Thank you," I swallowed. "Sir."

He smiled darkly.  "Get some sleep.  Think about what a dumb cunt you are,
and what you're going to do to be a better slave tomorrow than you were
today.  In fact, that is what you should think about every single night from
now on."

He left the room, and slammed the door behind him without waiting for a
response.  I trembled in pain and shock for several moments, my balls
aching.  The lights went out, and I shuffled my way towards the beg,
collapsing on top of the bare mattress.  I curled into a fetal position, the
plug still stuffed into my ass.  At least it wasn't vibrating. Pathetically,
I winced back tears of pain and humiliation as I drifted off to a fitful
sleep.

***

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