Date: Thu, 7 Oct 2010 18:32:29 -0700 (PDT)
From: "tallg33s3@yahoo.com" <tallg33s3@yahoo.com>
Subject: College Kid's Sexual Outlet

DISCLAIMER: This entire story is fictional.  Both main characters are
fictional constructs created from the two competing aspects of my
sexuality.  Both characters depicted are 18.  This story includes
non-consenting acts between two males which are sexual in nature.


PERSPECTIVE: the slave

For a while, I was still in that hazy state where you're still mostly
asleep, but are trying to roll over and are just conscious enough to wonder
why you can't.  It wasn't quite like that for me.  I mean, the amount of
consciousness was, but I couldn't seem to adjust my head very far to the
right--my neck stopped, and then all of my motion stopped.  And my arms
too.  My arms were down by my sides and behind my back for some reason, and
one of them was quite uncomfortable because it was partially beneath me.
When I tried to adjust it, I pulled on the other arm but couldn't really
get either to go anywhere.

I did finally come awake with a start.  After all that trying to penetrate
my subconscious, I guess I became slowly more wakeful until at one point
when I tried to move my head the opposite direction from which it got
stuck, I hit something else.  My eyes popped open, but my vision didn't
make much sense at first.  I moved my head back to where I started and got
a clearer view.

It was the bottom of a foot.

Actually, it was the bottoms of a pair of feet, one crossed over the other.
I wasn't quite sure why they were there--I was still feeling disoriented
from sleep so it didn't yet seem tremendously strange to me.  My brain
slowly started to process.  I was on my pillow--I assumed it was my pillow,
and later discovered it was--with two feet very near my face.  And...a rope
or cord of some kind going from one corner of my bed up under the pillow?
Then I remembered my arms, because they were uncomfortable and I wanted to
move them.  I tried doing so, and felt something bite into my wrists.  They
were tied together.  I felt my heart start pounding, and then my brain
addressed another issue.  I couldn't open my mouth.  I could feel tape over
it on my face.  And there was something in it.  Something big, which took
up almost all the room in it and tasted...odd.  The feet in front of my
face didn't seem like the cleanest, and had a slight smell, and that's what
let my brain figure out the taste: a sweaty, used sock.  I was starting to
panic, so I finally yanked my eyes around and started looking at the room.

In the instant I turned my eyes I saw the feet were, unsurprisingly,
connected to legs.  While the feet were bare, their owner was wearing
jeans.  And a white t-shirt, I absorbed in the same glance.  What I didn't
absorb was the face.  It was my roommate's face, Jonah.  I wasn't quite
sure what to make of that.  He was sitting on the desk next to my bed,
holding a laptop--my laptop--but he was looking down at my face next to his
feet and smiling.

He wasn't gorgeous by any means, and probably only slightly pretty.  He had
wavy brown hair which came down to just in front of his eyes, and was about
the same length around the rest of his head.  He had dark brown eyes, and
was slightly taller than me, probably five-nine or so.  He wasn't fat, but
wasn't athletic, either.  He was more like what happened when a skinny kid
never lost ten pounds of baby fat, and it bugged him.  He had been trying
to work out lately but had a hard time making himself go.  He did have a
slightly defined chest where he'd made some progress on his pecs.

I had, in fact, been daydreaming about him the day before.  I had been on
my bed, laptop open, writing master/slave porn while he lay on his bed and
did homework.  I'd kept my screen carefully away so he wouldn't glimpse it.
I was writing a third part of the story I'd started since I met him, in
which rather than meeting as roommates in college, we'd met when his father
(who was rich in the story) bought me from a group of kidnappers to be
Jonah's slave.  In the story, they lived in a house in the country, and
Jonah came from parents who were both into BDSM, and so they had always
kept slaves in the house, and I was to be Jonah's.  I was the first one
that was to be just his, and the last thing I'd written about before
shutting the laptop and going into the bathroom to jack off was his father
saying that I would be the slave he learned on--learned how to "break" me,
my free will, and make me wholly his.

But he hadn't known any of that--I'd been careful to keep the laptop open
only when my back was to the wall and he was on the other side of the room.
Whatever was happening now was all Jonah.  Seeing my eyes on his face, and
watching my expression change as I thought, Jonah's smile grew until he was
ready to speak.

"Hello, slave."

As my panic began to ebb, and my dick began to harden, he uncrossed his
feet and lay the bottom of one over the side of my face, so that my view of
him came through a window between his foot and the pillow.

"As you can see, I've tied you up fairly nicely there.  Now, you can try
and get free all you want, but you'll find your arms are too tight to slip
under your feet, so you can't get them up to your collar, and the leash
connected to that won't let you move more than a foot from that corner of
your bed."

From what I had already tried, I could tell it was true.  My legs were
free, so I could probably get myself over the side of the bed, and I could
move myself around a little bit on the bed, but I didn't really have any
way of getting anywhere else, at least not unless I could break the rope or
handcuffs on my wrists.

"I'm going to explain the new arrangement to you," he said, and rubbed his
foot against my face.  "You are now my property.  This isn't something
we'll do for kink sometimes, this isn't while we're roommates.  You belong
to me, period.  You are my slave, because I'm a man and you never could
have been.  You're a bitch, something entirely different, and the best life
you can aspire to is one in which you make me happy more frequently than
less frequently.  Starting now, your goal in life is to make my feet feel
well when you kiss and lick them, to give me the best blow job anyone's
ever had every time you blow me, to keep the floor of my home spotless, and
to have the honor of drinking my piss every time I need to pee.  Your goal,
in other words, is the one you were actually born for, which is to be the
best whimpering, foot-licking, crawling slave-bitch you could be.  This
isn't a choice or a game.  When you try and go on about your rights or how
you had hopes, and a future, and a family, you will be quickly disciplined
for speaking out of turn. Because even if that was true yesterday, it isn't
today.  You will never go anywhere in life except beneath my feet, and
you're already there."  This was technically only half-true, because only
the one foot he'd been rubbing my face with was on top of me.

All of this seemed to come pretty quick.  At first I didn't know what to
make of it, but when it became clear that if he was right, my life was
over--all of it, over--the panic came back full-force.  He couldn't do it.
I had a family that loved me, I had classes to go to, there were people
connected to me.  He couldn't just take me out of my old life so I could be
his slave.  I DID have life plans, and even if I got turned on by the idea
of being someone's slave, I certainly wouldn't ever want that to actually
happen to me.  My parents loved me and wanted to see me succeed in life.
I'd built myself up with the expectation that I would have a job, do well,
and be promoted.  I knew I would be a successful human being, not that
phantom desire of my sex drive.  But it looked like Jonah didn't see that.
He had obviously said he didn't expect that to happen.  But what was he
going to do, keep me there by force?  I mean, even if he could--which I
didn't think was possible--people would look for me.  Jonah started
speaking again, but at first I didn't notice. Then the heel of his other
foot smashed me in the forehead.

"Slave!  Listen and be attentive when your master speaks to you.  Attending
to your owner is your purpose in life.  Now, as I was saying, your new name
is slave.  And bitch.  And cunt.  And anything else I or any of my friends
choose to call you."  My mind started to drift again, and I guess he saw my
eyes glaze over, because I got another jolt from his heel.

"Listen carefully, bitch.  I know you're thinking this isn't real, won't
really happen.  You're thinking about the life you lived before, and still
think you're living now.  You're probably even thinking I'm crazy for
thinking I can do this.  But you know what?  I'm going to have you do it
for me.  You're going to call your mom, tell her you found someone who
wants you to be his slave, and that it's secretly what you've hoped for all
your life.  That you won't be in contact with her or anyone else ever
again, your destroying your phone, and you're dropping out of school to go
be this man's slave.  You'll tell her she can put out a missing person
notice if she wants, but doesn't need to bother, because you'll be living
in an isolated area in a different part of the country.  You'll tell her
that she'll have no idea where you'll be, and without a warrant to search
everyone's house in the country, no one will ever see you because your
master will never allow you outside.  Then you'll hang up."

"You're probably wondering why you'll do all this rather than just calling
for help immediately once I ungag you to get on the phone.  That's because
I can uncuff you and hide all this stuff before anyone ever gets to the
room.  When I allow you to be ungagged you won't call for help because
there will be no evidence of what I'm doing to you before someone will show
up, and while you'll be naked, and yelling, I'll be calm.  It'll be your
word against mine, and since I'll be hiding all this gear in your safe,
clearly labeled with your name, you'll just look like you're making it up.
And in case that's not enough, this is your laptop.  I've loaded the hard
drive with kiddie porn, and if you try anything I'm telling the school I
saw you looking at it one day.  You'd go to jail for being a sexual freak,
and I'd carry on with my life."

"You may also wonder why you won't say anything about this when you're on
the phone with your mother, or at least why you WILL say all the things I
told you.  Well, I'll have the call on speaker the whole time.  I'll know
how the conversation is going.  If, when you're done on the phone, I
haven't heard what I want, you'll be disciplined.  You'll be disciplined
far worse if you go on and tell her what's happening.  And then we'll do it
again, until you tell her what I told you.  The punishments only get worse,
I promise."

"You want to know the biggest reason you'll obey me, though?  Because you
being my slave isn't just about me deciding to make you mine.  Sure, I'm
always interested in good slaves, but I have to make sure the prospect
would make a good slave first.  You know I'm good with computers.  Well, in
a stroke of good fortune, one my first day here I actually felt productive
enough that I set up a packet sniffer.  What that means is that I've been
reading all of your web traffic.  I know all about your desires.  I've read
your little story, I've seen who you talk to on different boards, I've seen
what porn you get into.  I know all about you, and now I fucking own you.
And you'll love it, because it will finally let you be what you were meant
to be--a bitch.  You don't have to ever be unhappy or worry about success
or relationships or anything else in life again.  I'm finally freeing you
to live the life that you will truly find fulfilling, one with a purpose
which is much more suited to your level.  A life where you aren't
confronted with all these needs and expectations of success that are far
beyond a bitch like you, but rather a life which you are suited to.  A
purpose you're suited to.  Kneeling at the feet of a true man, who can do
all those things which are so far beyond you."

"But that's sidetracking, and where was I?  Oh.  Discipline.  Discipline
come when you disobey me, or do something that I don't like.  I know you're
just a bitch, so it's hard for you to do things right, much less do them
right the first time.  That's why you'll be punished for not intuiting
exactly what I think you should do--I'll always tell you how you were
wrong, so that you can reflect on how better to please your owner while you
thank me for correcting you with your punishment."

My eyes were wide.  My dick was also harder than it had ever been, but even
though it was near the sheets, I didn't try to hump the bed.  First,
because it really wasn't my first priority at the moment (which was being
scared shitless), and second, my first intuition as to what he would or
wouldn't like told me that he wouldn't like me trying to get myself off.
Not he, some damnable part of my conscious corrected me.  That same part
insisted on replacing "he" or any other reference to Jonah with something
else: my new Owner.

Jonah (my Owner) fell silent for a while, and just rubbed my face with His
foot.  I lay there, still, thinking.  At one point my eyes wandered from
Him, but another sharp kick to the face corrected me.  I wondered what I
would do.  Whether I would give up and just be His slave.  A part of me
really wanted to, but I knew I wouldn't, at least not for a long while, and
maybe never.  I didn't know how I felt about that.  I leaned my head
forward somewhat and nuzzled the bottom of His foot with my face, which
made Jonah (my Master) smile again and press his foot down further.  I kept
nuzzling, giving in slightly to the desire to submit to Him for a time,
only half-wondering what I would do.  I couldn't really see Him anymore,
but I heard typing and knew His attention had returned to whatever He was
doing to my computer, which was clearly more important than dealing with
me.  I felt my legs curl up under me into a kind of fetal position, hands
bound behind me, dick tenting my boxers (which tented my sheets) as I
enjoyed the dominance of His sweaty, smelly foot on my face.  Even as fully
hard as I was now, I knew my dick would only be about five inches long, and
I wondered what Jonah's (my Owner's) was like.  The part of my brain that
was insane with horniness already wanted to thank Him for allowing me the
privilege of being His bitch.

I was pretty close right then to completely giving myself over to it,
leaving resistance to wait until some other time or never, but something
reigned me back in.  Although I kept nuzzling His foot, I started wondering
how I might escape.  Cooperating would probably be the easiest way to
escape, because He'd probably relax His guard once I seemed sufficiently
eager and compliant.  But the rational part of my mind also knew that there
was the risk that, by the time I was acting sufficiently eager and
compliant to put Him off His guard, I might very well be just that.  If I
was going to escape, I might need to soon, or risk getting used to and
liking the situation.  Then again, I also might eventually grow to hate it,
and feel all the desires and expectations of my life rise back up when I
grew bored with my new life.

Suddenly, His foot moved away from my face.  Although my train of thought
had wandered, I'd been careful to keep my gaze focused on my master.  Jonah
(my Owner) had put his legs to the floor and was getting up, and
stretching.  He walked up to the bed and pulled the sheets down, so that I
was uncovered from head to feet, then opened a desk drawer and pulled out
some scissors.

"You won't need these any more," He said, cutting straight through my
boxers.  Pulling the tattered remains down onto my bed, He laughed at the
sight of my erect dick.  I don't know why He found it amusing, perhaps my
small size, perhaps only my humiliation at being open to Him like that, but
that same humiliation only made me hornier and more grateful to be His.  I
concluded that maintaining my resolve to escape might be more difficult
than I thought.

He reached with one hand around the back of one of my thighs, cupping it so
that His hand was between my legs, holding the one on top from behind.  For
a moment He rubbed my asshole with his thumb, but quickly began pulling on
the leg.

"Come on," He said, and knowing what He wanted, I lifted that leg with His
hand and pushed myself towards the side of the bed.  My legs swung over and
I rolled onto my stomach, with my ass bared towards my Master and my legs
touching the floor.  My head was still leashed to the bed post, so I wasn't
sure where He was trying to make me go.  He pulled back on my shoulder and
pushed on the back of my knees until I was all of the way off the bed,
kneeling next to the front bed post.

"Now," He said, "the first step is to correct a little issue we've had for
a while.  You see, you're a bitch, so your appropriate place to sleep is on
the floor, or preferably in a cage.  And I've been sleeping on a bed much
too small--I always seem close to the sides.  So you're going to fix that
by pushing the beds together.  Right now you're leashed to this pole, so
that's the one you're going to move first."

My hands were still tied behind my back, so I tried to ask how, but with
His sock taped in my mouth it came out as more of an "Mmmm" sound.
Immediately, I felt His hand connect sharply with my ass.

"I did not tell you to speak, bitch!" He snapped.  "Bend over."

I bent as far forward as I could with the leash still connecting me to the
top of the bed post.  My face was still about a foot from the floor.  This
didn't seem to satisfy my Owner, who loosened the leash some and pushed my
face all the way down.

"Normally, bitch, I would have you counting and thanking me as I do this,
but obviously you still need my sweaty sock in your mouth, so I'm going to
let it go this time.  While I'm doing this, though, think about how
grateful you are to have such a considerate master who will correct you."

He began to spank me--I'd never been spanked before in my life--and it felt
like He was giving it everything he had.  It hurt.  Over and over, His hand
smacked into my exposed bottom until it felt like it must be bleeding.  I
had started crying at some point during His discipline, and when it was
over I couldn't stop even though I knew He probably would want me to and
would punish me for still crying.  As it turned out, I was right.  That's
exactly what he did.

"Stop sniveling, slave-boy," my Owner drawled.  I tried, but wasn't quite
able to do it.  "Fine," He said, "we'll do this the painful way."

He walked away for a moment, but I couldn't see much of any of it because I
kept my face obediently next to the floor.  I knew he was back when I felt
a crack like fire across my ass.  Reflexively, my head jerked upward and I
moaned.

"Head down, slave," my Master ordered, and I obediently managed to put my
face to the floor, although I still cried through the pain.

"Now, you will push the beds together.  I know your hands are behind your
back, but I've allowed you the undeserved privilege of having your ankles
free.  Your neck is leashed to that post.  That means you will move that
post first.  Now, get moving."

I felt another crack across my ass.  My Owner must have been using a whip.
Still crying, I lifted my face an inch off the floor and began searching
for the bed post.  When I found it, I put my neck against it so that it
rested between my shoulder and my head and pushed.

It barely moved.

I tried again, with little more success.  I lifted myself up, so my whole
body was pushing into it, and spread my legs wide to brace myself, but that
only worked a little better.  My Master encouraged me to try something else
with another whip across my aching ass, this time taking advantage of the
spread of my legs to lash directly across my hole.  I put my head directly
behind the post and pushed.  This moved it more quickly, but it was hard to
control direction.  Slowly, pushing forward with my head and side to side
with my shoulders and neck, legs spread and open to my Master's whip, I
scooted the bed post away from one wall and towards the other bed.  I
almost collapsed when I got there, until another shock from the whip lit my
ass on fire again.

"Now the other one," He said.  I had already moved the bed most of the way
so I only had to get the other post a short distance.  He untied my leash
and walked me to the other end of the bed.  Rather than tying me to that,
He kept my leash in His hand and would occasionally give it a little tug.
Although my dick had gone limp because of the pain, that hardened it again.
After one whip to get me going, He amused Himself only by tugging on my
leash until I had finished.

"Good cunt," my Owner cooed, and reached down and to pet my hair.  The pain
was subsiding, and between His petting and His tugging on my leash I was
quickly becoming as hard as I had been earlier.  An irrational flood of
gratitude towards Him filled me.  He used the leash to pull my face between
His legs, then up to His crotch.  I didn't know whether He wanted me to
nuzzle Him or not, and I looked fearfully toward His face to try and find
out.

"Good," He said, "you know your place.  Yes, bitch, you may show your
master your respect."  With that, He put a hand behind my head and pulled
my face toward His crotch.  I could see His erect dick through the jeans,
and I nuzzled my face to it, making a nodding motion as I slid up and down
along it.  He allowed me to respect Him for a while before pushing me away
slightly, then leading me to our bathroom--His bathroom--by the leash.  I
didn't dare rise and walk behind Him, so I crawled forward on my knees.  He
jerked on my leash until I almost fell forward, then kept yanking me
forward so I was always bent over appropriately as I followed my Owner.

In the bathroom, He pulled me next to the tub, then grabbed my upper arm
and pulled me toward the tub.  Understanding He wanted me to get in the
tub, if not why, I immediately lifted a leg and used His grip on my arm to
balance as I climbed in.  Once I had both legs in, He pulled my face near
to the faucet and tied my leash so that my head couldn't move more than a
foot from the faucet.  He left a moment, then came back with an electric
razor, a regular razor, and shaving cream.

"Normally, this will be your responsibility," my Owner began.  "Now, you're
rather hairy--"

 In fact, I was quite hairy.  I kept the hair on my stomach, chest, back,
and armpits shaved when I wasn't lazy, but my pubes were incredibly thick,
and I had pretty thick dark hair on my arms and legs.  My Master had only a
light dusting of body hair on His legs and arms, none on His stomach or
back, and slightly bushy hair in His armpits.  I had always assumed His
pubes were approximately similar to His armpits, but had not yet had a
chance to find out.  My Master continued:

"--and since hair is a sign of masculinity, obviously you should have none.
Because shaving this hair is a symbol of you assuming your proper place at
my feet, I'm going to shave you the first time.  After that, I expect that
every day you will shave your body completely smooth while I am asleep or
in class, so that your life service to me to be smooth will never interfere
with that of serving me in any other capacity."

He turned the electric razor on, and flipped out a trimmer.  I caught
myself before sighing in relief; cutting hair as long as my body hair
without the trimmer would have been very painful.  First, He pulled one leg
of mine up so that it was slightly above the top of the tub and balanced my
knee on the edge.  My arms were still behind my back, so I couldn't use
them to balance; my legs were spread, with one of the bottom of the tub and
the other lifted slightly, and my head was leashed to the faucet.  Ordering
me to balance, my Owner quickly sheared first one leg, then the other, then
my ass.  He permitted me to lower both legs back into the tub while He
sheared both of my arms--He loosened whatever He'd used to tie them just
enough to slide up and down so He could trim the whole arm.  He then had me
lay on my back, with my collar directly beneath the faucet, while He
sheared the insides of my thighs, my pubes, and my balls.  My Owner then
returned me to my previous position, where He covered me in shaving cream
and then shaved.  The cream stung on my ass, and where it entered the hole,
but He was gentle when He shaved the area.  I trembled when He returned me
to lying on my back, fearing the process when He shaved my pubes, cock and
balls.  When He shaved there He did make several small cuts, which hurt
tremendously.  I did my best to remain still, knowing that even though the
sock prevented me from screaming, jerking would make it worse and displease
my Master.

After He had finished, He wiped the remaining cream off my body with my
ruined boxers.  I was now hairless and completely naked before my new
Owner, His property easily visible for His inspection.  When I thought
that, I could feel my dick pulsate, but rather than laughing, this time He
just allowed His face to twitch into a smile momentarily.

He untied my leash again and led me by it back into His bedroom.  Grabbing
the laptop, He led me to the foot of His bed and climbed in.  Fully erect
while on my knees, my face was just above the edge of the bed.  He lay down
on his stomach, feet toward me, and pulled my leash forward.  Intuiting
what He wanted, I ran my nose from the toes of one of His feet up to His
heel, then back down the other side, and tried to wiggle my nose in between
each of His toes.  I closed my eyes, and breathed in the smell of my
Master's dirty feet.  I leaned my face forward so that my cheek rested
against the sole of His foot, then rubbed my face against it.  I then moved
to His other foot, and rubbed my nose over His heel, then down to His toes.

I lost track of time while I nuzzled His feet.  I had started thinking
again, about what I could do and how I could do it.  Again I was fighting a
tendency to give in for the moment, to enjoy the privilege of being in my
place and serving a true man.  It was odd, I reflected.  The day before I
was just a regular freshman in college, with the same general social
standing and life expectations of any college freshman.  Well, of almost
everyone, really.  I had a normal life, and was expecting that to continue,
and as near as I could tell my Master was the same way.  And He still was,
at least in a since.  Outwardly He would probably live exactly that life,
quite successful the whole time.

I really didn't know what I wanted.  A life of sexual bliss like the one my
Owner presented to me was a fantasy come true in the most literal sense.
At the same time, it wasn't who I was.  I had been raised expect myself to
succeed, and everyone who knew me did.  In addition, I loved and was loved
by people.  I wasn't the sort, I didn't think, to be unable to handle
seeing them again, but I also knew I owed it to everyone, and especially my
family and parents, to escape and live the life they'd hoped for for me.
To let them see me, one of their children, who they loved and were proud
of.  That, really, was the single biggest reason.  The second was my pride
in myself, my confidence that I could succeed and was more valuable to
humanity than just as a slave to someone who, truth be told, was
intelligent but might not even have been as capable as I was.  To be
letting down my potential.

No answer seemed to come to me right then, so I did what I really wanted to
do: I refocused on the task at hand.  My nose was in the middle of the sole
of my Master's left foot; I pushed my nose more into His foot and rubbed up
and down, up and down, drinking in the day-old musk of His sweat from His
workout the day before.  As soon as I had done that, my Owner stirred.
Folding closed my laptop, He turned and climbed off the bed.  He pulled on
my leash and said: "Heel."  I crawled over to His feet and lay my head on
them, but before I could nuzzle them again He started walking, kicking my
head out of the way.  I hurriedly followed in the posture I'd adopted when
following Him to the bathroom, crawling forward on my needs with my upper
body bowed half-way to the floor.  He picked up His backpack, put some of
His things in it, and turned to me.

"Time for class.  You get to wait here, little slave boy, while I'm there.
Let's see, where should I leave you?"  He looked around, presumably for
something suitable to tie me to.

"Obviously, I can't leave you anywhere that you could potentially get
yourself off while you're gone, so this may require some engineering."  He
found a short rod with a hole at one end--I have no idea what it came
from--and put one end up against a bedpost, then tied it to the post
through the hole.  He then tied my leash to the top of the bedpost, and
pointed my back to it.  He quickly released one my hands, held up the rod
to my ass, then refastened what I was beginning to think were some form of
handcuffs to my free hand on the other side of the bed post, pulling me
down onto the rod.  I'd never had any form of sex before, much less had
anything shoved up my ass.  It was excruciating, and tears came immediately
to my eyes.  Even so, I recognized the genius of what He had done.  I could
only get off the rod by moving forward or upward.  My leash was fastened
too close to allow my head to travel upward much, and my arms wouldn't move
forward enough to allow me to move my ass forward enough to get it off the
rod.  In effect, I was stuck squatting there, either fully extending myself
to keep as far off the rod as possible, or allowing myself to sag slightly,
pushing the rod further into me.  If I'd been able to get far enough for
the rod to fall out I'd have been fine, but my arms wouldn't stretch that
far.

"That should do," my Master said, grinning.  I was balanced on the balls of
my feet, teetering, and looked out from tearful eyes at Him with an emotion
or mix of emotions I didn't recognize.  His hairless, naked slave was
entirely at His mercy, with no way to think of anything but His penetration
and access and ownership of every part of my body, even after He left for
class.



PERSPECTIVE: Jonah

Entry psychology is boring.  It's honors, so it's nominally difficult, but
it's taught by a professor who's had little or no experience with honors.
Apparently, even offering honors psych classes is a new thing for the uni.
Good for them.  Good for my GPA.  I was completely zoned out of what the
teacher was saying, mostly because I could be.  Instead, I was basking in
the glow of my recently realized paraphilia, an incredibly edifying thing
to do in psych.  That and keeping anyone else from noticing my semi-hardon.
What was that, Freud, about how sometimes cigars are just cigars?

I wasn't looking forward to cal 2 after psych.  Maybe I'd try and stop by
the room to let my new slave give my feet a little love as encouragement.
Nah, wouldn't have time.  The rigors of school life, and all that.

Poor Teddy-bear.  Bet Ted was still reeling from what I'd pulled on him.
Not that I had to keep thinking of him as Ted for any reason other than my
own amusement.  I reflected on an idea probably only I would find amusing:
getting teddy-bear ears with hair clips, and a teddy bear tail ass plug,
and making my slave toy wear those around.  I knew they made a bunny ass
plug, and that could be dyed brown easily enough to be a bear ass plug.
I'd seen teddy bear ear clips at an anime convention, so that component was
available too.  That would look good with my roomie's naked body.  It'd be
kind of cute, a pet teddy bear.

My psych professor droned on about something else, and I daydreamed about
designing some kind of program for a computer which took a microphone input
and headphone output and modulated the input to sound like the "wonk wonk
wonk" sound teachers made in Charlie Brown.  I wouldn't, of course.  That
would probably require work, even though it would be super-easy, and I was
an engineer, or would be.  Why do work you aren't getting paid for?

My mind, however, was still on my exploit of the morning.  Of course, there
were ethical issues--separating the kid from his family and all--but there
were other components to be considered as well.  After all, the slave boy
did really want this.  Not his fault his society had taught him he couldn't
have it.  Maybe after I broke that out of him, I'd give him a choice of
whether to stay or not.  After all, I'd really given him the choice he
never had: the choice to actually choose to be a slave, if that's what he
wanted.

Then again, maybe I wouldn't.  I guess it would depend on whether he was
smart enough and flexible enough to be able to get around that mental
block.

Of course, all of this would have to come after the little conversation
with his mommy.  Even I wasn't looking forward to that one.  A lot of
obvious security vulnerabilities I'd have to take care of, plus several
even the slave-boy probably wouldn't know he might stumble upon.  I was
curious how he was doing with my little contraption to keep him busy while
I was in class.

My slave-toy didn't look half-bad when shaved.  He was even kind of cute.
A skinny kid, he was a bit shorter than me, with--as I'd recently
discovered--a significantly shorter dick, which was of course quite
appropriate.  Mine was a full seven inches, but his barely looked like it
was five.  Maybe less.  He had surfer boy dirty blond hair, a little longer
than mine, but in a fairly similar style, but his face didn't have the
long, blocky look a lot of surfers did.  He looked fairly younger, not as
old as our real age of 18, which I liked.  And, of course, he looked
frightened and excited in a perverted way which was exactly what I'd hoped
for.  I'd need to water him fairly soon, after calc.  I'd probably pick up
lunch, bring that by, and eat that while he watched hungrily, then let him
take a good long drink of my piss.

That thought reminded me, and I took a swig from my water bottle.  Wanted
to make sure I could keep my bitch hydrated, after all.  By the time I got
back he'd be ready enough to keep his mouth shut so he could have a little
drink.  He'd need the sock most of the time for at least a few days...that
thought reminded me that I should work out tonight so he could have a fresh
sock to keep him horned up.  He sure was a horny little bitch.  His cock
popped at almost everything I did this morning.  It made it quite a bit
easier to shave his genitals, in practical terms, as well as obviating that
although I could touch his genitalia whenever I wanted, casually, he would
never again have such power himself without my permission.

Now that was a turn on.

I ignored my way through psych, then calculus, grabbed lunch, and headed
back.



PERSPECTIVE: the slave

I couldn't recall ever being more excited than when I heard the sound of
the door opening.  My Owner was finally returning, so I could get off this
rod and kneel at His feet again.

I was in agony.  All of my muscles had been tensed for hours on end.  My
arms were tensed, to keep as far forward as possible, as was my back to
keep my head as far up as I could.  My ass was as far forward as I could
get it, which meant it was perched almost directly over my feet.  My legs
were bent at the knees as tightly as possible, and I had been balancing on
the balls of my feet for hours.  The arches of my feet burned with cramps
from supporting my weight the whole time--to straighten them I'd've had to
roll back, pushing the rod further up my ass, or lain my knees down on the
ground and lowered my shins to the floor, which would have lowered my ass
further down the rod.  And as time as gone on, I'd gotten hungry and
thirsty, and began to realize that I was probably getting dehydrated.

So I'd teetered, squatting, with a symbol of my Owner's dominance in my
ass, crying as often as not, moaning through my Owner's dirty sock It was
an absolutely brilliant idea He'd had--part of my subconscious told me that
of course I should expect that from someone so superior--and I spent the
entire time thinking about Him.  It was too distracting for my mind to go
to anything else, and so I'd reflected for hours on how thoroughly He'd
made me His bitch, placed me under His control, subjugated me in every way.
Of how even without being there He was emasculating me, demonstrating that
He won unconditionally, proving me completely dependent on Him and His
desire to free me to get out of my predicament.  And I cried like the bitch
I was, needing Him, desperate for Him to return and free me, more eager
than I'd been the whole time to be able to just kneel peacefully nuzzling
His feet, readily and freely admitting to belonging wholly to Him. And of
course I spent a good deal of time just focusing on keeping as far up the
rod as I could.

I could tell immediately from His glance at me that He knew my dick had
been like an extension of the rod in my ass, almost always completely hard
for Him, for the last two hours straight.  I struggled not to moan in
relief and gratitude at seeing Him, but was unable to keep my whole body
from trembling even more violently than when I'd simply been fatigued.

He chuckled again and crossed the room, laying His backpack near His bed.
He kicked off His flipflops and sat down on the desk next to me, digging in
a bag He'd brought with Him, but made no move to release me.  Obviously, I
was quite concerned with my immediate situation, and my eyes were wide as I
tried to beg Him to free me to kneel at His feet and nuzzle them.  He
smiled at my discomfort, and leaning back against the wall, making a seat
out of the desk, He lifted His feet up.  One He laid on the desk, but the
other He rested in front of my face.

Obediently I leaned forward to nuzzle Him, suffering the pain from the rod
slipping farther into my ass in hopes that He would free me.  He had taken
out some food and started eating, watching me as I ran my face along the
underside of His foot.  One by one, I ran my nose over and around each of
His toes, then between them.  Then I ran my nose up the inside of His foot,
resting my cheek against the sole.  I pressed forward, rubbing my face
around the underside of my Master's foot.  A part of my mind knew that I
was in my place, exactly where I belonged, with my face subserviently
caressing the bottom of His foot, even as my hopes crashed around me and
panic rose because He made no move to allow me off the rod as He began to
eat.