Date: Fri, 1 Feb 2013 13:21:14 -0800 (PST)
From: "tallg33s3@yahoo.com" <tallg33s3@yahoo.com>
Subject: College Kid's Sexual Outlet [part 2]

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: Jonah

Cafeteria food, universally known for being horrible, is generally as
appalling at our uni as in any other venue.  Today, however, was an
exception.

It wasn't really, of course, as I was well aware, but I nonetheless
reflected pleasantly enough on the food as I ate it.  I was simply enjoying
the day, and the lustful nuzzling of my slave's face against the bottom of
my foot.  As soon as I'd come through the door, his eyes had widened, and
he'd started shaking.  His rather small dick, bare and exposed with no
pubic hair around it, went from where it had apparently been sagging (while
hard) towards the floor to full mast (and hard).  Indeed, his naked form
bore no hair anywhere except his head, which was a lovely dirty blonde.  He
was skinny, not anemic and not athletic, and of a regrettably pale light
skin color, even lighter than I.

I had been quite turned on by the image and thought of my slave bound upon
a small rod I had encouraged up his cunt, obviously straining to remain in
a squat with his feet arched underneath him, his knees fully bent, legs
splayed to the sides, chest upright and arms fully extended behind him.  He
had blushed and lowered his face, his gaze falling upon my feet.  As I had
crossed the room, my slave had taken several glances upward, eyes wide, in
an obvious plea to release him from his torment, but I wasn't done
demonstrating to him how thoroughly he had been subjugated.  Nor, for that
matter, had I been ready to give up the sight of his slender nude figure,
with duck tape over his mouth holding my day-old dirty sock in his mouth,
collared and leashed to my bed with his small muscles straining to keep
himself as far up the impromptu dildo as he could.

As I munched I had one foot propped over the back of the chair, near enough
to his face so that he might find some comfort in his humiliation beneath
his master, and sure he enough he had leaned forward--forcing his bottom
further down the rod--in order to tenderly rub his face into every crevice
on the bottom of my foot.

Teddy bear--I had decided I did want to call him that, and intended to
follow through with the bear-tail ass plug and clip-on teddy bear ears--was
a remarkably lucky and unlucky young man.  18, a few months younger than
me, he had never lived apart from his parents before, and had only met me
two weeks before when we'd both moved into the dorm.  For whatever reason,
several days before I had been sufficiently motivated to setup a packet
sniffer, which can display raw internet traffic, and had left it on on our
internet connection.  I'd already had a couple good times with my right
hand imagining my roommate was my slave when I discovered (in what, I'm
sure, was a freak accident of amazing fortune) that Teddy was writing
porn--not just fantasizing, but actually writing porn--of being made into
my slave.  I hadn't said anything, of course, just waited until I'd gotten
all of the necessary equipment, but my budding interest in several other
classmates had waned as I realized potential to actually accomplish my
fantasy life lay in my own room.  It took a fair amount of research,
preparation, and plotting--especially plotting--before I had felt I was
ready.  But indeed I was, and little teddy bear had no idea how much I had
arranged.

I looked down on my naked slave's body, smoothly sliding forward and back
as his nose and cheeks rubbed softly against the sole of my right foot.
His eyes were closed, rather than on me, but the peaceful, happy expression
he wore was beautiful and so I decided to allow the omission.  As my
slave's clear bare shoulders arched gently, and his arms flexed and
loosened, I admired this view of my property.  It's funny how you don't
notice subtle details until after you own something--like slight
imperfections on a used car you bought--but I noticed now some slight
freckles on my pet teddy bear's face, and far from being defects they
contributed to his beauty.  I finished eating, and stretched, legs and arms
locked outwards, knocking my property a bit away.  His eyes opened, and I
saw what I took to be fear in his expression as he fell back slightly, but
once I had finished stretching I simply placed my other foot over the back
of the chair, and lowered the first to the seat.  I knew my slave was
disappointed I had not taken him off of the rod, but he took to my other
foot immediately.  I pulled up my laptop and surfed for a bit.

My need to piss had risen significantly over the course of my meal, and it
was no doubt time to water the bitch, so I stood.  My slave trembled
slightly, and bowed his head so that he was gazing at my feet.  Stepping
forward, I slid one hand through his hair, then pulled him face directly
into my crotch, guiding him until his mouth was near the button of my
jeans.

"Well, little slave boy, I think it's time to let you have a little drink.
It'll also give us a chance to see just how far along in your personal
development you've come, because it will mean you won't have the assistance
of my sock in your mouth to keep you in your place."

I pulled his head back slightly from where he had already began cuddling my
crotch and yanked off the tape.  With two fingers I reached into his mouth
and pulled out the rancid sock I'd soaked with sweat the day before.  I was
immensely curious to see whether he would try and yell for help, forcing me
to immediately shove it back in, or whether he would continue with what
might still be a show of immense and loving subordination.

"Now you may unbutton and un-zip my pants."

Eyes wide, teddy bear leaned forward again (which forced the rod deeper, I
noted) and began fumbling with the button to my jeans.  It seemed to take a
while for him to figure out a method that worked, until with increasing
desperation he was able to pull the jeans with his teeth around the edge of
the button.  He soon had grasped the zipper between his teeth and pulled it
down the length of my fly.

"Not bad, bitch, not bad.  I'd almost believe you had already learned to
love your master and the generosity with which he has allowed you to serve
him.  But then I remember seeing from your little fantasy story how well
you understand that such an opportunity was a great honor to accomplish far
more--perhaps removing some dirt from the feet of a man--than you ever
could have with your own delusions of how your life was to unfold."

I stepped to the side and slid his leash off of the top of the bed post.
Reaching down, I un-cuffed his hands, then cuffed them behind has back but
free of the post.  As I pulled him forward onto his knees, I slipped my
hard cock out of my boxers and tapped it against his face.  His eyes
glanced upwards to me, grateful but also somewhat apprehensive, presumably
at the size of my cock.  I, however, was not concerned; in time he would
learn to draw more comfort and pleasure from having it in his mouth and
throat than I ever could from receiving his service.

I allowed his lips to close over the tip, then pass slightly up the shaft
before I tightened my grasp on his head and held him still.  As I expected
it took some time while I held him in that position before I was able to
piss, but I didn't waste any time warning him when I finally began, nor of
my obvious expectation that he swallow all of it.  When the urine did begin
find its way through my dick, I felt him tremble, or perhaps stiffen
slightly, and could tell he had begun swallowing rapidly.  He did seem able
to keep up--barely--but would certainly need to learn to chug it when I had
gotten to the point of not being so aroused when I pissed.  When I had
finished, I pulled his head slightly off of the shaft, and then wiped the
tip on his lips and cheek.  He leaned forward and kissed the tip once more,
but I stopped him before any further ministrations.  At my restraining
touch he immediately bowed his head once more.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door.  Both of our heads snapped towards
the sound, then I called loudly, "Just a minute."

Reaching down, I grabbed my dirty, sopping wet sock and slid it into his
mouth--which he widened, flattening his tongue obediently, to allow it
in--then taped it in again.  Sliding my cock back into my boxers, I zipped
and buttoned my jeans while my slave knelt subserviently before me.  When I
had finished, I grabbed his leash where it connected to his collar and led
him to the closet.  There I had a large suitcase, already unzipped and
opened, which I pulled him into.  As Bear crouched into a fetal position,
hands still cuffed behind his back, I closed the suitcase and zipped it
shut.

Then I went to see about my visitor.



PERSPECTIVE: the slave

I lay perfectly still inside my Master's suitcase (which had once been
mine, but of course belonged to Him now as did everything I had once so
unrightfully owned).  I'm not sure why; at that point I probably could have
drawn enough attention to myself to get this visitor to notice, and I don't
know what Jonas (my Owner) could have done to explain His way out of it.
But for some reason I couldn't bring myself to do it.  As I had cried my
way through my Master's classes, so thoroughly and rightfully reminded I
was owned by His rod in my ass (cunt, my mind told me), I must already have
begun the process He knew I would.

Although the whole time He had been gone and the whole time since He had
returned I had been aware of my obligation to attempt escape, I had such
longing for (and then edification in) my Owner's presence and service.  At
some points I know I had been crying not because of the pain but because
of...something else.  I had never had a chance to find out before, but I
truly was loving being in my place.  I loved having His hand on my leash,
my nudity on display for His inspection and pleasure.  I loved serving as
His urinal, His verbal reminders of my inferiority and unworthiness.  I
simply adored nuzzling His feet and couldn't wait for the time that He
decided I might not need His sock in my mouth and I was allowed to lick,
kiss and massage His feet with my tongue and mouth as He had promised.

These feelings were certainly partly sexual, but also partly not; my dick
had been hard most of the time, which had seemed to please my Master, but
even when it wasn't I had hardly had an easier time rallying my thoughts
and resolve to escape.  Instead I had thought about how much I did want
this.  He had been right in many ways about what He had said earlier that
morning, that were I free to choose what I wanted for my life this could
very easily be it.  Even at the time, not knowing how I would feel about
it, I had thought it likely to make me just as or possibly even more happy
than living a successful life, earning the respect of my family and
friends, and having the small pleasures that came from doing well for
yourself.  I hadn't been able to imagine having any kind of relationship at
any point, because I couldn't really get into the idea of pretending to
have a boyfriend to everyone and then as soon as their backs were turned
having something so different from what they believed.

I had managed a few times to contemplate escape; perhaps even harder than
the thought of shaming everyone I knew with my desire live as this man's
slave (I certainly no longer thought of Him as anything but a man, even
though He too was only 18) was the thought of telling them they would never
see me again, as He had ordered.  Even if I could get over telling my
mother and father what I wanted, what was truly making me happy, and
somehow get them to accept that and want me to have that happiness, how
could I explain to them that they could never see me again?

It was that thought that I had rallied to several times earlier, and which
I thought about while trying to bolster my resistance.  Even if I didn't
feel it was unfair to me, it was certainly unfair to traumatize them in
such a manner.  The thought made me feel more guilty than resolute; I felt
guilty about how much I wanted to submit to my Master's every desire,
including that of abandoning them, first and foremost.  I thought it was
really impressive how quickly my Owner had eroded my will.  He had left me
alone, horny for Him but also in pain and dependent upon His arbitrary
choice to free me.  Anything that happened to me happened because He chose
it.

As my thoughts paused temporarily, I noticed the physical sensations of my
situation.  My bare, now hairless ass on the bottom of the suitcase, still
had a significant ache from the rod that had earlier been kept up my cunt.
My dick, growing erect again as I considered my posture, began to stiffen
upwards between where my legs were curled against my torso; I was in a sort
of fetal position in the suitcase, except with my hands cuffed behind me,
squatting so that both my feet and my ass supported my weight.  My chest
and shoulders were bent forward over my stomach--no, tummy, I thought--and
my head was propped in the upper corner opposite my bottom.  My collar,
which seemed to be made of metal links, hung comfortingly around my neck,
and my leather leash fell down between my legs and spooled on the bottom of
the suitcase.  I began to notice the words of my Master and His guest and
quickly tried to divert my attention; the entire time I had chosen to be
lost in thought rather than inadvertently overhear my Owner's business,
which was certainly not for me to know unless He chose it.

His sock was had grown much more comfortable in my mouth after my breath
and saliva had warmed it back to my body temperature.  I had tried not to
think about how uncomfortable it was when He had shoved it in cold and
slimy, as it was of course not my place to be ungrateful.  Rather, it was
always an honor to have a sock that He had gotten sweaty on His foot in my
mouth.  I knew my little dick--no, willie--was rock-solid at that thought,
and felt it tap my tummy.  His own had been much bigger, as I had both
hoped and feared; i was concerned about being able to service Him properly,
and worried i might choke when He used my mouth as His cunt, or be unable
to hold back moans or screams when He commanded the use of my ass as His
cunt.  But despite my fear for the pain, I was immensely happy at how
thoroughly it demonstrated my own natural inferiority to Him.  I hoped He
found the sight of my own insufficient member wagging with my enthusiasm
for serving Him amusing.

The sounds of talking had slowed, and soon I heard my Owner open His door,
and exchange farewells with His guest.  I was eager to be able to see Him
once more, and hoped for the opportunity to service His feet to His
pleasure.  Several minutes went by before He came and unzipped the case
that held me; blinking up at Him, i made no move to get out until He
indicated, taking my leash, threading it back up between my legs, and
tugging on it slightly.  I fell forward onto my knees before Him, lowering
my face to His feet, but then was pulled up by my leash.  My Master pet me
with His free hand, running His fingers through my hair, possessively
caressing His pet slave boy.  I leaned slightly toward His crotch, and
strained to glimpse His face without dislodging His hand.  At His slight
nod, I nuzzled my face against the center of His jeans, respectfully
looking for His cock and massaging it back to full size.  My legs were wide
apart, and I could tell my own willie was sticking wide out in front of me,
bobbing up and down with my motion.  It felt good to have my ass spread
slightly as it was, to feel completely available and visible for His
inspection, regardless of the fact that He seemed more focused on petting
my hair.  Even kneeling in a closet serving my Owner in this impromptu way
felt so satisfying; I was happy like this, happy in a way I felt guilty
about, happy in a way that made me suspect this truly was what would make
for the best life I could have.  I was happy and it wasn't fair.

My Owner quickly tired of simply demonstrating His possession, and led me
back into His bedroom.  As He ceased pulling me forward and tied my leash
once again to a bed post, I quickly lowered my face to the floor behind His
feet.  He turned, and briefly offered a foot beneath my nose, which I
nuzzled eagerly, before he hopped up onto the bed above me.  I could tell
His feet dangled only inches above my head.

"Raise your head and neck, slave, and serve as my foot rest."  I eagerly
complied, and felt the side of one foot lie against my neck and shoulder,
and the toes of His other foot combed my hair before His foot came to rest
flat atop my head.

"Now, it may be some time before these become relevant, but these are rules
I am giving you to serve me, so pay careful attention to remember all of
them.  Eventually, there will be a time when it is appropriate for you to
be able to speak to me; not just in response to some question, but rather
to let me know your feelings, needs, or things you have observed.  When
this becomes appropriate, you must of course beg permission to speak, and
you will do that by kneeling as you do now--slightly above prone--before me
and waiting.  This is appropriate when you have completed the tasks I have
given you, or if I have simply given you orders to remain at my feet.  No
doubt you have already figured out that such a command indicates you may
massage, caress, kiss, or lick my feet unless I explicitly tell you to
remain still.  At any rate, you will hold that position respectfully until
I choose to acknowledge or dismiss your desire to speak.  If you have
something urgent to say, you may mewl softly, as a kitten might, but unless
it is truly urgent, understand that I will have no hesitation in punishing
you for interrupting me if you persist after I indicate you are not allowed
to speak.

"Another matter is that of your health; I'm still in the process of
determining exactly what you will be allowed to eat, which dog foods are
best for humans and what will need to be added for human nutritional
requirements, but I will generally give you orders to prepare yourself a
bowl of some kind of food and allow you time to eat it on my floor.  For
water, you are allowed to drink from my toilet as needed, although I
recommend against gorging yourself at any point, as you are always
responsible for being able to drink anything I or any guests give you.
Obviously, the opportunity to exercise your right to drink from my toilet
is only available when I choose to either leave you unleashed or with
enough play in your leash to reach it.  As far as excrement: you will
always raise the toilet bowl and sit on the rim, regardless of whether you
are peeing or pooping.  You will flush, wipe yourself off, and always use
clean water after the flush to clean out your hole.  You will wash your
hands immediately after by climbing upon the toilet and possibly counter
until you can reach the sink, then resume your position on the floor.  When
I need to shit, you will wait at my feet until I have finished, and then I
may choose to wipe myself or not.  Regardless, afterwards you will be
responsible for ensuring my hole is completely clean with your tongue.  One
you have done so, you will clean your mouth out with soap--you will not
swallow until you have done so--and return to the heel position at my feet.

"I generally dislike alarm clocks--they are an unpleasant way to wake
up--so in the future you will be responsible for waking me at the time I
wish to rise.  Until you are allowed to have your mouth free, you will have
to accomplish this by nuzzling me much as you have been; you are allowed to
nuzzle my feet, along my legs, and my ass, dick and balls, and will be
allowed to lick and kiss them eventually.  You may also wake me with a blow
job, again once you are allowed used of your mouth.  You yourself will
sleep on the floor beneath my bed, until I decide I wish you to sleep
elsewhere, such as the cage I may buy for you.  You will be leashed and
collared at all times for the first few days, but eventually you may be
allowed to serve me all over my home, in more places than you could reach
while leashed to anything.  In such events, remember that even when I am
not home, you are not worthy to rise to your feet, and for tasks such as
cleaning something you could not possibly reach by stretching from your
knees, you will clamber upon it on all fours.  Now, I'm going to remove the
sock in your mouth so you can demonstrate your understanding and gratitude.
When I ask a direct question, you are allowed to answer, with no more than
cursory thanks."

My Owner moved His feet off of His property and pulled my head up by my
leash.  He tore the tape off of my mouth, removed His sock and lay it over
my hair, so that it hung down in front of one eye.  I submissively bowed my
head as far as i could without jeopardizing the position of His sock.

"Now, when and how will you be allowed to eat?"

"When my Owner orders me i may put some food in a bowl, and when You give
me permission i can put it on the floor.  Then when You give me permission
i can eat out of it.  Thank You sir for helping me find my place at Your
feet.  I will always be in your debt for the great honors You provided me
so far this morning when You let me serve you."

It felt somewhat odd to be kneeling here, naked and subservient, before
someone who (as it again struck me) had been before and could so easily be
considered my peer.  Rather than making any attempt to scream for help (as
part of my subconscious screamed at me to do) or otherwise work towards
escape, i knelt here.  I couldn't help myself, somehow.

"A bit wordy, but nice to hear.  Keep it shorter next time.  Now, if you
have something you need to tell me--something odd you have observed, or how
you feel about me, your service to me, or anything else, or perhaps a
request you have, how may you do so?"

"Master, i would finish whatever orders You gave me, because even the most
un-important order You give me will always be more important that anything
i might say, and then i would kneel before You and mewl softly for a short
time and wait until You give me permission to speak.  Thank you, Owner,
Sir, for letting me have rules to know my place."

"Good.  However, keep in mind that not just your body, but also your mind
and emotions belong to me.  It will be your duty to tell me of your
feelings and thoughts, both as a matter of curiosity for me and to ensure I
can keep my property maintained in the best health, and so I will expect
you to regularly discuss your feelings and desires with me.  You,
slave-boy, are bound to be completely open and honest with me about your
deepest feelings, desires and hopes.  Now is not the time for that,
however."

"Now, keeping that in mind, how will you relieve yourself when you need to
pee-pee or poo?"

I was grateful to hear my Master use childish terms for my own bodily
members and processes, compared to more vulgar, adult ones for His own; i
had read it in porn before (as i assumed He had) and found it appropriately
demeaning.  However, i hesitated while i tried to determine what He meant
about keeping in mind what He said before; in retrospect it is immediately
obvious, but fearful of making a mistake in front of my Owner, I tried to
think.

"Well, slave?" my Owner said, taking His foot off of my shoulder just long
enough to kick my head with His sole, then allowed me to be His footrest
again.

"I will move the toilet seat up and sit on the rim when i need to relieve
myself, Sir, and wash myself so that i am clean for You immediately after."

My Owner kicked me slightly harder this time.  "Yes, bitch, you will, but
you will ask for such permission by completing any assignment I have given
you, then coming to kneel in the proper way at my feet.  Also, I will
probably eventually begin keeping your ass plugged, at which point most
likely you will only be allowed to shit once a day, on a regular schedule,
as I permit."

I thought of acknowledging this verbally and thanking my Master, but
figured He would probably prefer i remain submissively silent.  As i
waited, i became again intensely aware of my own nakedness before my Owner,
of the collar that ringed my neck and the leash that connected it to His
hand.  With the foot He had used to correct me, He had passed the leash
between His toes, making gentle tugs on it as He worked to slip it in
between each one.  I watched from beneath his wet sock hanging over my
face, grateful for the sight I found so beautiful, finally allowing myself
to think of feet with that term, certainly something I could not have
voiced or allowed myself to relish feeling before.  His feet were
beautiful, all of His toes just the right length, His toenails neatly
trimmed (a service I hoped to be able to provide Him in the future), and I
was immensely turned on as even the small motion of wrapping my leash
around one toe would tug on my collar, reminding me of my proper place.  I
hoped my slender, hairless form, which He had so recently shaven, looked at
least acceptable in my Master's view, and hopefully even brought Him some
pleasure to know that He had a slave to serve Him, however little it had
done to deserve that honor.  I thought of my back, arched forward and the
top of my blonde head bowed before Him with His wet sock hanging down over
my face, my legs splayed out and kneeling, my ass resting on the heels of
my feet, toes and balls supporting my weight, and knew my hard willie was
at its full five inches of extension.

He on the leash until it slid through His toes; it became taught and i
leaned forward as smoothly as I could to follow my leash until His toes
tapped my forehead.  He rubbed the ball of His foot over my forehead, down
over one eye, and then up over the bridge of my nose to rub the other.
Letting the leash slip off, He explored my face with His toes.  He seemed
to enjoy grabbing my cheeks, nose and lips between His toes and pulling
gently one direction or another.  It felt like i must have died, because i
was in my own perfect version of Heaven.  I'd always wondered what actually
being enslaved could be like, if i wouldn't get bored or eventually lose
interest, and although it was clearly too early to say, the excitement so
far was only a small portion of the happiness i felt, and that gave me hope
that the happiness would last.

When He tired of demonstrating His ownership of me in that way, He hopped
off the bed.  I quickly knelt next to His feet, and as i leaned my face to
the floor the sock slipped off.  Mortified and unsure of what to do, i
leaned forward and grabbed it with my teeth, then froze to wait for His
guidance.

"Good slave-boy.  You did well, not only keeping your mouth shut while
under my direct observation, but when presented with the tool which helped
you so much earlier, you intuited the correct response."

He pulled my head up by the leash and pushed His sock fully into my mouth,
then led me to a roll of duck tape and tore off a new piece.  I wasn't sure
how i felt about my actions or responses either way, or about what He said.
I didn't know what the right thing to do was--when He brought it up again,
i was reminded of the effect my enslavement would have on my family and
friends.  Indeed, had the very same feelings occurred before He had put His
sock in, i may have tried shouting while i had the chance.

While i was lost in thought, Master Jonah had led me back to the bed-post
where He had kept me impaled to stew on His mastery of me this morning.
Once again, He pulled on the back of my collar until my knees had been
lifted off of the ground, and quickly tied my leash to the post so that my
back was facing towards it.  I attempted to mewl through my gag, hoping He
might allow me to beg to not to be put on the rod again, but He simply
slapped my face lightly and said "Not now, bitch."  He released my arms,
then bound them behind the bedpost, then loosened my leash.  Pulling on my
collar, He lifted me until my ass was high enough to clear the rod,
positioned it, and then pushed me back down on it.  I again gasped through
the sock as i felt it shoved up my cunt, and felt tears well up from the
pain.  I tried my best to keep myself silent as i began to cry, remembering
earlier that morning how He had wanted me to shut up.  When i had been
pushed far enough down the rod to satisfy Him, He re-tied my leash so i
would be again unable to rise off of it.  As i perched on the balls of my
feet once again, unsure how long i could continue through the aching pain
of that stance, i kept my gaze averted to His feet as much as i could.  I
couldn't help glancing up at His face through my tears a few times, eager
both to beg for His mercy and to acknowledge the wrongness of desiring to
change His will or lose my reminder of His dominance.



PERSPECTIVE: Jonah

I was very pleased with my slave.  He had done almost amazingly well--I had
been almost sure that at some point I would have had to shove my foot into
his mouth or in some other way gag him again while I let him speak, but I
supposed he was still too overwhelmed with enjoying being a slave too much
for the guilt to penetrate enough to try escape.  There was time enough for
that in the next few days, I supposed, and I knew it would come.  I
certainly hoped I had adequately prepared for anything my new pet might
attempt, but I wouldn't know until the time came.

I enjoyed his tears as I locked him up again before I left for class.  He
cried then, I knew, because of the pain of having a giant stick shoved up
his ass, but eventually he would start crying as he tried to work out the
emotions he was going through.  I enjoyed that thought too.  Not because I
liked the act of inflicting pain on him for its own sake, in either case,
but rather because of his innocent reaction and submission to the will of
his owner, and because I knew he and I both agreed that I should have and
use that power over him.  It was his place to cry before me, to me, and for
me.

I had finished getting my stuff together--put on flip-flops again, stuffed
my laptop in my backpack--and walked to the door before I realized I needed
to stop dwelling on teddy-bear (Damn! did he look cute with a sock draped
over his head) and adjusted my hard-on so it would be less noticeable as I
walked to class.  Horniness was for the middle of class, when no one could
see.

In English, I payed marginally more attention than I had in Psych or
Calculus that morning.  Although I did allow myself some fantasizing, I
wanted to make sure this didn't become a habit and detract from my
school-work.  After all, the idea was to have acquired a slave to serve me,
not to have gained an obsession that would stand between me and my goals of
having a well-paying job and plenty of other nice things.

My thoughts wandered to the rest of the afternoon.  After class I would
head back to the room, drop my stuff off, and probably change and go work
out.  Although I hated it, it was important to me to finally get into shape
and enjoy looking at my body.  I had no desire to get all hulk-y and
muscular, but I did want to be quite athletic, with well-defined pecs, a
six-pack, etc.  Certainly I did want to be more muscular than my slave boy,
but I already was.  He would need to get to working out a bit too--he was
skinny enough, but I did want him to have a little visible muscle, not
much, but enough.  No idea how I was going to get him to work out just yet,
but I'd figure it out.  And that thought reminded me in turn that I needed
to finish designing his diet.  I'd looked up brands of dog food that were
safe for human consumption, and tried to find vitamins to round out the
rest of his needs, but there were a few things that simply might require
human food to cover.

As the class let out, I wandered more or less absentmindedly in the
direction of my dorm.  I hadn't really made a lot of friends, but I
casually knew a few of the people heading out and replied to their
greetings.  One, who perhaps also hadn't made too many friends, suggested
we hang out and grab coffee or something.  This was a new and kind of
liberating experience; it felt very...mature to just go grab coffee with
someone.  That sounds shallow and superficial, because I'm sufficiently
pretentious to think "feeling grown-up" should be completely irrelevant to
me, but it's not.  It's a nice change from high school and living with
parents, when you have to get permission for everything.  I said sure to
the guy (Casey, I think) and wandered on.

Slipping back into my room, I observed my slave somewhat less taught than
before; the stick was deep inside his cunt, as he had obviously been unable
to maintain the incredibly straining position of straddling it as high as
he could.  Rather than teetering on the balls of his feet, legs splayed
wide in a squat, his knees and forelegs rested on the ground, tops of his
feet flat against the floor behind him.  His boy-peen had gone completely
soft; his face was tilted towards the floor, leash tight from his neck to
the bedpost.  He had very clear tracks down his cheek where tears had
fallen.

Noticing me, he seemed to brighten up.  His gaze first darted upward to me,
then back down again; his posture seemed to straighten slightly, then
slump, then straighten again as he struggled against fatigue.  His
expression changed, too, although it was less defined; he ceased to look
sad, both facially and through body language, and looked excited and
perhaps even eager.  This time, however, I doubted he expected me to let
him off the rod immediately, as he seemed to last time.  I walked over to
him, dropping my bag off on my bed.  Reaching forward, I unleashed him, and
he seemed to stiffen a bit in surprise.  I reached down and un-cuffed both
of his wrists this time.

"Rub your arms; they'll need the help for circulation."  As my slave began
to comply, I grabbed his leash near his collar and pulled him forward,
enough that he crawled forward off of his ass-plug.  I held his leash with
one hand as I tousled his hair with my other.  When I was satisfied that
his arms were in a functional state (if not comfortable), I instructed him
that he could use them now to crawl.

As I walked him towards the closet, I explained that he should always use
his mouth to perform tasks for me unless I explicitly commanded otherwise
or it was clearly impossible to do.  For tasks such as carrying large,
heavy trays, for example, he could use his arms to lift them onto his back,
and then balance it there as he crawled to his destination.  Other cases
might generally need him to use his hands and arms, but I expected this to
be the exception rather than the norm.  He should regard his hands and arms
primarily as tools to crawl and climb his way to wherever he needed to be.

Walking into the closet I grabbed my workout clothes and shoes.  Kicking my
flip-flops off, I walked back outside and stood next to my teddy bear's
head.  As I changed shirts he obediently lay his face against my feet and
began nuzzling them, perhaps a bit more slowly and purposefully than
before, inhaling and stroking with his nose, pausing occasionally to gaze
at each foot from less than an inch away.

I got so turned on by that.

Pulling my tented jeans off, I slipped on the workout shorts.  Watching my
bitch struggle to make as much contact with my feet as he could made me
pause; socks or no socks?  I didn't think I'd want to run without
them...but getting my feet sweaty in my sneakers sounded like a winning
idea, so on a whim I allowed my slave to slip them onto my bare feet--using
his hands, no less--and tie them.

"It's time you got some rest, teddy bear."  Pulling his leash under the
bed, I pulled his collar tight to one of the center bedposts, wrapped the
leash around and through, and then pulled it up and over towards the side
of the bed near the wall.  Lifting his arm up to make sure he couldn't
reach it, I tied the end of the leash to the top of the far post.

I started to walk away when I heard mewling.  It was surprisingly clear; he
must have practiced while I was at class.  Entertained, I turned, walked
back, and removed his gag.  "Speak, bitch," I commanded.

"Thank you, Master, for putting me in my place.  I am so grateful, Sir,
that you own me now.  Please, Master, would you like your bitch to be
handcuffed again while you are gone Sir?"

"Do you wish to be handcuffed, teddy bear?"

"No, my kind Master."

"Sucks to be you, then, bitch.  Right now, you don't need the handcuffs to
keep from escaping.  I don't think you'll try anything in my absence; you
know better than to touch your willie, but without my supervision and some
external assistance I don't think you'd be able to stop yourself.  So you
get the handcuffs.  But I'm going to leave the sock out; after all, if you
said caught anyone's attention at this point, all this would end, and why
end it so early, before you get to enjoy it a bit more?  It's not like you
can't yell and get someone's attention later, after all, and try and
execute whatever ill-advised escape attempt you come up with then."

He obediently lowered his gaze to the floor, and I went into the bathroom
and filled a plain bowl with toilet water.  Placing it next to him, I told
him he could drink.  Knees bent and ass in the air, he place his arms to
either side of the bowl, careful not to touch it with his hands, dropped
his face into the water and drank.  His slender body and limbs looked
fantastic dressed in only a collar and leash; the slight movements of his
bare back as he drank, the wiggle of his smooth butt cheeks, the tensing of
his thighs and calves almost made me reconsider working out just so I could
watch this creature I possessed drink from a bowl.  After he'd gotten his
face good and wet, and well before he looked like he'd had enough, I
stepped over with the handcuffs and cuffed his wrists so that the links
went around the outside of a support beam running between the legs of the
bed.

Moment over, I walked out the door, locked it behind me and headed to the
gym.