Date: Wed, 19 Dec 2007 17:50:37 -0800
From: bamaboi2serve <bamaboi2serve@charter.net>
Subject: The SUB-Student-Part One

The Sub-Student
PART ONE
By bamaboi2serve@charter.net

A Christmas present for my MASTER in Cleveland, who ordered me to write
this for him.


     I had been hired Jimmy to work around my property all Summer.  He was
a good worker, always doing more than promised and staying longer if
needed.
     I hired him because I spotted him working in a neighbor's yard, a yard
that always looked well-manicured, and because he was a student in one of
my classes at the local College.
    OK, I won't deny that I also hired him 'cause he was cute...21 years
old, about 6' 1" tall, 160 pounds, chestnut hair that hung in bangs over
his forehead, a kinda lazy walk that allowed me plenty of time to watch his
very shapely ass slide around underneath the always tight shorts or jeans
he wore. He was also fond of either tank tops or no shirt at all if the
weather allowed. He was mostly smooth, but had dark patches of hair in his
pits that he showed off when he stretched, which also exposed slight
evidence of a nice bush above his cock, though I had yet to see it all. His
arms and legs were long, showing developing muscles and a light but
noticeable smattering of hair.
    I was glad the work he was doing for me was contributing to his muscle
development! His tits showed promise...dark little mounds that I was sure
would get larger and more prominent if exercised.
    I may be fifteen years his senior, but I'm no slouch in the looks
department either. I work out regularly and keep myself in shape. There
were a couple of gray hairs in my mostly jet black hair, but just a few.
    Oh, duh, I'm gay, which lots of people know about me, but I'm also into
S&M, something only a few select friends and, of course, my sex partners
are aware of. I'm a Master too...100%. When guys come home with me they
know what position they're going to be in for the night...on their knees,
on their belly, or on their back...serving and servicing me and my many
needy body parts!
   Jimmy had been inside my house any number of times to use the bathroom
or get a drink, and I was pretty careful about not leaving toys and stuff
lying around...but one Sunday I had carelessly left a pair of Japanese
style tit clamps laying on the table next to the door that led to the
basement. That's where my playroom was, a room Jimmy had never been in and
which I kept locked. I had bought the house because of that big basement
and because it was on a large enough piece of property that prying
neighbors weren't a problem.
    I had kept the tit clamps on the slave-boi I was playing with the night
before and had kept them on him till he was leaving, enjoying the sharp
pain I knew he felt when I removed them and the blood went rushing back
into his tortured nubs. I knew he would still be hurting when he got back
home, a nice reminder of me. When I did take `em off him, I had dropped
them on the table, meaning to take them downstairs in the morning.
   The best intentions and all that ended with me standing in the kitchen
Sunday afternoon and Jimmy calling my name from the door...he had come in
to use the bathroom and on his way out had walked past the basement door.
  I turned and there he was, cute as ever, kneeling on the floor, head
down, wearing my clamps on his tits. "i hope you don't mind if i use these,
Sir?" he asked softly.
  He had removed his cutoffs and was dressed in only a jock strap, Sweat
was dripping from his body onto the kitchen floor.
   I had NO idea how Jimmy had figured me out, but there he was offering
himself to me, and he wasn't being bashful.
   I walked over and grabbed the chain linking the clamps and gave them a
tug..."Over here boi! Crawl!" I said firmly, pulling him along on his
knees. He kept his eyes down, but I caught a glimpse of them briefly and
they were as big as a house. The bulge in his jock grew even bigger and a
wet spot formed.
   If there is such a thing as a natural slave, Jimmy was apparently
it. When I stopped, I pulled him up into kneeling position. Without being
told, he put his hands behind him, just above his crack ...and he stayed in
that slave-like position, keeping his eyes averted.
   I calmly and casually flipped off my shoes and took off my shorts. I
wasn't wearing any underwear, and my man-sized cock flopped out inches
above his lowered head. A drip of pre-cum made it's way down into his
hair. I don't know how he felt it, but he jerked his head an inch or so as
if he had been burned by scalding water.
   We were in really new territory for him now, live in the middle of his
masturbatory fantasies. I didn't want him to bolt, so I used one hand to
pet his head and his shoulders a bit, making sure my rod didn't make
contact with him. His OWN prick was pushing out his sweaty jock like the
proverbial tent pole.
    In a way, his was also a new experience for me...while I had picked up
guys new to Master/slave games, they had been older. Jimmy was just a boy!
    "Easy boy, easy...I'm going to go really slow with you.." I told
him. His reply could have been mistaken for a slight wind outside it was so
soft..."Yessss Sir," he replied his voice shaking.
    I pulled over a chair from the dining room table and sat down
immediately in front of him, my legs spread wide, my cock now pointing at
him like a sword, another long string of cum stretching downward to the
floor between his knees. my large balls rested on the edge of the chair.
    "I want you to look at my cock as I talk to you, boy...stare at it and
memorize it's shape and contours," I ordered him.
    His head moved up a couple of inches and he became the trapped furry
animal looking at the cobra, waiting for a strike.
    "We need some rules, boy, and I'm the one making `em. These are the
basics. I'll refine `am later. Are you listening?" I asked
rhetorically. Hell, I was sure my voice was inside his head by now!
    "Number one is that I am a man, and you are a slave. I tell you what to
do and you DO it! Repeat!," I ordered. He repeated each word correctly, but
again, so softly. I'd have to work on his delivery later.
     "Number two is your name. It's not Jimmy. It's Bob's Bitch
Boi. Understand?" I asked, again, not really needing an answer. I had him
now. I ordered him to repeat his new name three times loudly and he did,
the third time with real force behind it.
     "Number three is my name. It is Master or Sir. If I ever hear you call
me something else, in private or public, I'll toss you to the curb slut!"
That sounded a bit harsh, I thought, but he seemed to be thriving on it,
his cock even harder if that was possible. I wondered if it would poke a
hole through the jock cloth.
     "Slip that stupid jock strap off boi, only a real man with athletic
ability wears them, and no bitch of mine wears clothing in the house
anyway!" I shouted, "And that's Rule Number Four!"
     He stumbled as he pulled at the flimsy cloth, pulling it over one knee
at a time, almost falling on his side but catching himself in time. In a
moment he was done, kneeling naked before his new Master, still sweating
despite the air conditioning, shaking and still hard, his six inch cock
pointing out in front of him. His brown pubes were trimmed very short, and
I made a mental note to find out why.
   There was no hesitation in his movements. So far, the boi had done
everything I wanted, but it was still early...in the evening, and early in
what I was beginning to think was the opportunity of a lifetime.