Date: Sun, 21 Apr 2013 19:09:44 -0700 (PDT)
From: J R <uriel478@yahoo.com>
Subject: Submissive Executive

Disclaimer: This story was written for me by an older submissive with me in
mind as the younger dominant. The author has explicitly given permission to
submit the story for display on Nifty.


If you are an executive/CEO or the type that is usually alpha during the
day but craves to be submissive to a younger Dom behind closed doors, send
me an email.

Chapter One

Josh had been looking forward to career day, even more than usual. In his
first three years at ORHS, he had considered it interesting, a break from
the usual routine, far better than another boring day of Mr. Boole
lecturing about a bunch of mathematical crap no one would ever use. Now
that he was a senior, facing the prospect of choosing a profession, the
event had taken on greater significance.

The choices had been accounting, veterinary medicine, and nuclear
physics. Josh was no dummy, but he just didn't care which way electrons
spin and how attracted they were to protons, nor was he excited by the
prospect of four years of college followed by at least that many more in
graduate school. No, a Ph.D. in physics was simply not in the cards; the
National Laboratory would just have to carry on its research without
him. Josh liked animals, but living in a small town, he knew that
specializing in cats and dogs wouldn't be sufficient to make a good
living. He would have to travel out into the country, helping sick horses
and stuff, and he was allergic to manure.

That explains how Josh met Mr. Peabody. Sitting close to the back of the
room, warmer than it should have been by several degrees, packed with so
many chairs the fire marshal would have had the place evacuated had he
known, noticing perspiration begin to drip under his arms, Josh barely
raised his head when the man with brown hair, wearing a crisp new gray suit
and a red tie, walked in, briefcase in hand, accompanied by Mrs. Atkinson.

"This here's Mr. Peabody, y'all," she oozed. "He's a senior partner with
the accounting firm of Jones, Smith and Brezinski, LLP, specializing in
audits of scientific and technology companies with annual revenues between
$1 million and $5 million."

Mr. Peabody placed the monogrammed leather briefcase on the desk and pulled
out a thin manila folder. "Good afternoon," he said, calmly measuring his
audience. "I'm going to talk a few minutes about what I do, then I'll be
happy to take questions."

As Mr. Peabody regaled his youthful audience with stories about expense
accounts and IRS audits, Josh straightened up in his seat. Something about
the man caught his eye, beyond the impeccably fitted suit. Clearly he was
executive material -- confident, articulate, knowledgeable. He obviously
worked out, sporting solid shoulders and a waist that couldn't have
exceeded 33 inches, not bad for a man Josh estimated to be forty years old,
maybe forty five tops. He found himself straining to detect whether there
was a ring on Mr. Peabody's left hand. He didn't spot one but couldn't be
sure from the distance. If there wasn't, well, what were the possibilities?
His mind wandered, and he began to feel movement just below his waist.

"And that brings my prepared remarks to a close," Mr. Peabody
concluded. "I'll be happy to stay a few minutes in case anyone has a
question."

Most of the students left hurriedly, heading for the cafeteria, eager to
feed their growing bodies. Josh lingered. It's not that he wasn't hungry;
it was a question of what he was hungry for. "That was pretty interesting,
Mr. Peabody. I've actually thought about becoming an accountant." He wished
that Mrs. Atkinson would drift further away, but she didn't.

"A noble profession, young man. And if you work hard, you can even save a
few bucks at the end of the month." He smiled broadly, revealing perfect
white teeth, and his eyes darted away from Josh's face long enough to take
in the powerful body of a young man in his prime. When they returned, they
were burning with revelation. "Say, we sometimes offer internships to
students interested in our field. Are you a senior by any chance?"

"Yes, I am."

"Perfect, just perfect. Might you be, umm, interested in something that
would keep you occupied over the summer?" Josh surmised that Mr. Peabody
had mastered the art of the double entendre.

"Well, Mr. Peabody, I suppose I might. Yes, I just might."

"You see, Philip, I told you that Career Day was worth your effort,"
Mrs. Atkinson gushed enthusiastically. "Sometimes it actually changes
students' lives."

"Yes," Mr. Peabody replied, "I can see that. We might just have an example
right here in front of us." He produced a business card and handed it to
Josh. "Call me," he said. "You definitely should call me."

* * *

Josh did call, and a lunch was promptly arranged for the following
Thursday. Mr. Peabody seemed quite eager, Josh noticed, inquiring
solicitously what kind of food he preferred and where he might feel most
comfortable. He couldn't help wondering whether, below the executive
exterior, whether Mr. Peabody might enjoy being told what to do.

Mr. Peabody arrived at Burchfield's, in the Garden Plaza Hotel, wearing a
different suit -- charcoal, with thin vertical stripes and broad lapels --
and a tie that couldn't decide whether it wanted to be maroon or red,
connected to a bright white shirt with a diamond-laced tie tac. "Have
anything you like, young man," Mr. Peabody smiled. "That's what expense
accounts are for."

"And this one is legal right?" Josh smiled back, remembering an essential
point from the Career Day lecture.

"It is if you are."

It took Josh a minute to realize Mr. Peabody was asking a question. "Oh,
quite legal. I'll be nineteen next March." His heart approached warp speed
-- his suspicions had been correct! "Legal, willing, and eager."

A waiter appeared. He and Mr. Peabody appeared to have at least a casual
acquaintance. "How's the herb-crusted filet of salmon today, Todd?"

"Tasty as usual, sir."

"Then that's what I'll have. Definitely in the mood for something tasty."
His foot moved forward and rested lightly on Josh's toe. "How about you,
young man, in the mood for something tasty?"

"Yes, indeed."

"And what is it you'd like for lunch?"

"The salmon will be just fine, thank you."

They engaged in casual conversation for the next ten minutes, as the waiter
brought waters, bread, and salads, then hovered closer than a waiter ought
to hover. Josh felt relieved when he went into the kitchen to check on the
entrees.

"You know, Mr. Peabody, I can't help noticing that you look very handsome
in that business suit."

"Well, thank you. And please call me Philip." He took a long drink of
water, looking over the top of the glass carefully at Josh, measuring
something that wasn't immediately apparent. "And you're quite a hunk
yourself, if you don't mind my saying so."

Josh answered by rubbing his foot on Philip's leg under the table. "Well,
thank you. And please call me Josh -- in public."

With an opening that wide, Philip decided to throw caution to the
wind. "And what would you like to be called in private?"

Josh gulped, not certain that he hadn't bitten off more than Philip would
be willing to chew. But he stood at the precipice -- he had purposely led
them to the precipice -- and it was now or never. "Sir will be just fine,
Philip. In private, you may call me Sir."

The waiter returned with two large plates, crowded with vegetables and
parsley, and a beautiful sauce adorning shapely pieces of fish. "Will there
be anything else, Mr. Peabody?"

"No, Todd, that's looks great." He glanced at Josh, then continued. "Just
let us have a leisurely lunch, all right?"

Todd gave him a look that no waiter should ever give a customer, especially
in a fine restaurant, but what came out of his mouth had an entirely
different tenor. "Of course, enjoy your meal." He glanced at Josh hastily,
and his transparent smile disappeared before he had taken two complete
steps.

"Now, let's see, where were we?" Philip asked rhetorically, returning his
full attention to Josh. "Oh yes, you'd like to be called Sir." He paused,
then smiled. "I see you are not one to beat around the bush. I like that in
a young man. Indeed, I like that very much. `Sir' it shall be -- in
private."

They both turned to the task at hand, then, which was to take pleasure in
the elegant meal before them, enhanced by the mutual rubbing of feet and
lower legs under the table. As it turned out, they were both more than
adequate in the skill of small talk, and fifteen minutes passed
effortlessly. Todd returned when he saw that both plates were empty. "Would
either of you care for dessert?"

Philip looked at Josh with dancing eyes. "Well, shall we have dessert, umm,
Josh?"

Josh was ready. Just because he was half Philip's age didn't mean he
couldn't hold his own in the double entendre department. "We should
definitely have dessert. But not here."

Mr. Peabody looked at Todd triumphantly. "I guess not, Todd. Just the check
please."

A few minutes later, the check arrived. It seemed to Josh that Todd almost
slammed it down on the table in front of Mr. Peabody, who observed the
inappropriate gesture but didn't comment on it directly. He drew a crisp
$50 bill from his wallet and placed it on the table. "Shall we go?"

Chapter Two

Josh had taken several steps toward the front of the restaurant before he
noticed that Philip wasn't directly behind him. In fact, Philip had headed
in the other direction and was waiting at the restaurant's other entrance,
off the hotel lobby. He gestured for Josh to follow him.

"Where are we going?" Josh inquired once they were walking in the same
direction.

"My company has a suite in the hotel, reserved for our out-of-town
clients. I don't think there's anyone using it at the moment. Would you
like to see?"

Josh might as well have been asked whether he wanted to win five million
dollars, tax free. He put his hand on Philip's shoulder and squeezed. A
minute later they were in the elevator.

"Ah, here we are," Philip said, sliding the plastic key card he had removed
from his wallet, holding the door open for Josh to enter. Philip put the
"Do Not Disturb" sign on the doorknob facing the hall and locked the door
behind him.

Josh noticed the plush carpet immediately, then took stock of the living
room portion of the corporate suite. An upholstered couch pushed against
the side wall, flanked by end tables and luxurious lamps, faced a large
plasma screen TV. A picture window overlooked the swimming pool, and a wet
bar, small but apparently well stocked, fit neatly into one corner. Philip
moved through an open door, with Josh close behind. A gigantic king-size
bed dominated the room, along with another window, this time partially
hidden by thick curtains capable of shutting out all light from the
exterior. Philip looked at himself in the full-length mirror on the door to
the bathroom, then turned to Josh. "You like?"

"How much time do we have?" Josh asked.

Philip glanced at his watch. "Not much, I'm afraid. I scheduled a 3
p.m. conference back at the office."

Josh pulled the curtains shut and turned on one of the bedside lamps. "Time
enough to teach you some manners, anyway, or rules if you want to call them
that. Get on your knees!" Philip complied, and added a subservient touch of
his own by putting his wrists behind his back. "Good," Josh commented, "but
shouldn't there be a verbal response as well?"

"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir."

"You're allowed mistakes, but don't make the same one twice. Got that?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I like seeing executives all dressed up with no place to go -- unless I
give them permission!"

"I had you spotted within ten minutes of beginning my talk in that stuffy
classroom."

"Well, lucky me. Now stand up and remove your pants."

"Yes, Sir." Philip placed the trousers on the bed neatly.

"Now the briefs."

"Yes, Sir." Philip stepped out of crisp white cotton briefs and placed them
on the bed as well." His genitals were still hidden by the long tails of
his dress shirt.

"No underpants from now on, ever, under any conditions."

Philip hesitated. "But Sir, I work in a sensitive environment. I'm always
around people, sometimes giving formal talks with colleagues, business
partners, prospective clients."

"They won't notice. This is not negotiable."

"If you say so, Sir."

Displaying more maturity than his years might normally suggest, Josh always
debated the wisdom of his commands. He knew what he wanted, and if his
slaves didn't comply at least minimally, then he lost interest. On the
other hand, he understood that pushing too hard, or too quickly, might
disrupt a fragile relationship and prevent it from blossoming. "You're
reluctant, I hear it in your voice."

"That's true, Sir, I won't deny it."

"You'll see. These here..." and he picked up Philip's underpants "...are
not leaving this room. You won't have time to go to the store on your way
back to the office, so you'll conduct that 3 o'clock meeting without
them. And unless you get red in the face, nobody will ever know." Josh
tossed the underpants on the bed, crossed the room, and lifted the receiver
from the telephone on the end table. "What's the room number here?" he
asked Philip, simultaneously dialing the front desk.

"231, Sir."

Josh spoke into the phone. "I need a scissors in 231, right away. Doesn't
have to be huge, just any ordinary scissors will do." He hung up and sprang
athletically across the bed, sitting down near the man who was becoming his
slave. "Okay, lie down over my knee."

Philip hesitated only a micro-second, then assumed the position as
ordered. Then quickly, remembering he was only allowed to make a mistake
once, he added authoritatively, "Yes, Sir."

"Now for that dessert," Josh stated confidently, and he proceeded to use
his bare hand on Philip's rear end. Eventually, the twitching caused by
each additional blow became pronounced, as the skin reddened. A knock on
the door spelled relief for the man who was experiencing his first spanking
in about thirty-five years.

"Back on your knees." Josh went to the door and returned with a pair of
scissors, which he handed to Philip, along with the briefs. "Okay, you know
what to do. Get busy." Philip looked at Josh plaintively, asking with his
face what he knew he shouldn't do with his mouth. "Get busy!" Josh
commanded, and Philip, sensing the inevitable, cut the briefs into little
pieces. "Throw them away. There's a trash can in the bathroom." When Philip
returned, he knelt before Josh, who had taken a seat on the edge of the
bed. "How do you feel now, slave?"

Philip looked down at the floor and didn't reply immediately.

"Look right at me and tell me how you feel!"

A tear trickled down Philip's right cheek. "Very small, Sir. I feel very
small and powerless."

Josh knew that the cry, although minimal, was a good sign. "You are small,
boy, and powerless, and frankly not much more than a worthless piece of
shit. You are only what I say you can be. You'll get used to it. Won't you,
boy?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Now you may stand up and put your pants back on. You'll just have time to
get to your meeting."

Philip complied, and as he did so an awareness came over him -- a sense
that he had met his match, that Josh had the stature and the fortitude to
become the Master he had always fantasized about.

"Here, let me help you fix that tie." Josh pulled on the knot to solidify
it and pushed it to dead center. Then he gave Philip a hug, wrapping both
arms around his back and squeezing gently, followed by a kiss on the
cheek. "You'll make a very good slave. Now let's get you back to work." As
they entered the elevator, Todd exited, apparently on a room service
call. He and Philip exchanged a somber glance. "What the hell is going on
between you two?" Josh asked.

"We've spent some time together," Philip replied noncommittally.

"Is that a fact? Well, he's a pretty nice looking boy."

"Yes, Sir, that he is."

"He doesn't strike me as the dominant sort. Too jealous. Too
temperamental."

"He goes either way."

"Good. We'll just have to get together with him some time, won't we boy?"

"If you say so, Sir."

Chapter Three

During the next two weeks, Josh and Philip met every other day. At the
beginning, due to Philip's crowded work schedule, they had as little as
half an hour together. But he instructed his appointments secretary to
begin leaving two-hour blocks free as much as possible, so as time passed
their sessions increased in both length and intensity. In addition, Philip
was essentially "on call" during evenings and weekends.

If "opposites attract," as the old saying goes, then Josh and Philip were
as far apart as the remote corners of the Milky Way. The former, with his
trim 30 inch waist and shapely, muscular shoulders, admired the latter for
his life experience, his success in the business world, and his obvious
attraction to men in their prime -- like himself. Sure, Josh enjoyed the
occasional elegant meal, hosted by his more well-to-do counterpart, but he
was not focused on money; as far as he was concerned, there was nothing
wrong with pizza and hamburgers. His interests were far more mature and
infinitely more complex. He hungered for obedience -- the sights and sounds
of a man twice his age giving up his independence, his ego, his sense of
self-worth -- and the sense of mastery that overcame him when he succeeded
in breaking the man's spirit. And then, having made the man humble himself
to the point of tears and beg for a scrap of human decency, he would
 relent sometimes, allowing the man to crawl into bed with him and
cuddle. Yes, he sometimes thought, humiliation, sex, and cuddling form a
powerful threesome.

Philip, on the other hand, had to work hard to maintain his 33 inch waist,
and his biceps just about disappeared if he didn't work out regularly. Not
much physical energy is required, after all, to push keys on the computer
keyboard and discuss the fine points of tax law with clients who would
rather have a martini than an energy bar. He admired young men for their
looks, sure, but also for their spontaneity, their fresh if somewhat
superficial view of the world, and their adolescent
confidence. Inexplicably, for an executive, he was drawn to those who
enjoyed exercising control -- those who knew what they wanted and took no
shit from anyone. He yearned for men whose youthful exuberance and energy
for devising outlandish punishments and symbols of submission were
mitigated only by enough common sense to keep things from getting out of
hand. And he had found such a man in Josh.

For the most part, these "opposites" spent their time together exploring
their mutual desires, both sexual and psychological. Philip quickly learned
the rituals Josh expected of him -- kissing his feet whenever he entered a
room and just prior to ending their sessions; remaining naked on his knees
(or hands and knees) unless permission to stand was granted; using language
that was properly respectful of his Master (referring to him frequently as
"Sir," and increasingly as "Master Josh" as their relationship deepened);
and providing sexual satisfaction.

On those rare occasions when Philip rebelled, even momentarily, forgetting
that his new role in life was simply to please Josh in every possible way,
he paid a heavy price. Josh was adept at punishment and humiliation,
subscribing to the philosophy that slaves will attempt to recover a mile of
respect if permitted an inch of freedom, and he therefore imposed rigorous
consequences on the mildest of transgressions. "Don't smile until
Christmas," one of his high school teachers had confided in him, when asked
how he managed to control an unruly class of scheming sophomores, and that
advice applied to an entirely different situation had served him well. On
one occasion, Philip failed to kiss Josh's feet upon entering the hotel
suite. He spent the next two hours naked, on his knees, with his hands
behind his back, blindfolded with his own handkerchief, holding a small
piece of stationary to the wall with his nose, while Josh relaxed on the
bed,
 watching television and ensuring that his slave didn't allow the paper to
fall. Four days later, he failed to call Josh at a pre-arranged hour to
confirm their meeting; after beginning the session by drinking half a glass
of his own warm piss, he was forced to remain as motionless as possible on
his hands and knees, once again naked and blindfolded, with strict
instructions that if he moved excessively, he would have to repeat the
process the following day. (With the remaining half glass of piss placed in
the middle of his back, the liquid became a sensitive if not excessively
sophisticated monitoring device.) Josh was not reluctant to impose mild
pain as well, and although spanking was part of their regular ritual, the
intensity varied depending on how compliant Philip had been during or since
the last session. For behavior that Josh considered to be especially
egregious (an event that occurred only once), he discovered that two
clothes pins properly
 situated on Philip's body for about five minutes turned the latter into
the whimpering, compliant slave that was fast becoming his destiny.

Above and beyond the psychological and the erotic, the two "opposites"
began to share facts and feelings of a more personal nature. It came
slowly, especially for Josh, who didn't perceive much of a desire at the
beginning, but it gradually grew on him that Philip was coming to care for
him a great deal and wanted to be, at least vicariously, a more integral
part of his life. So he talked more about his family and friends, his hopes
and frustrations. He shared with Philip that he, too, was growing fond in a
personal way of his slave. They even went to a movie together, holding
hands in the back row through the entire film -- though Philip was careful
to maintain the required respectful demeanor. Philip in particular enjoyed
this unusual social contact, and as they talked afterward about the plot,
the characters, the acting, the music, and the photography, it almost
seemed to him as though, at long last, he had found not just a Master, but
a
 boyfriend.

This more personal relationship, interwoven with the more predominant
Master/slave dimension, acquired an unexpected poignancy one afternoon
when, shortly after beginning their session, Philip threw up
violently. "Stomach virus," he explained, "or food poisoning. I don't
know. I'm so sorry." But Josh proved up to the task, tucking Philip into
bed tenderly, bringing him water to drink, and generally being solicitous
of his needs -- even cleaning up the mess. "I would do the same for you,"
Philip whispered gratefully, while Josh stroked his face. "I know you
would," Josh replied.

It would be a mistake, however, to think that this relationship would or
could move beyond its essential foundation: Josh enjoyed being in control,
and Philip was naturally subservient. This was the most fundamental and
predominant aspect of their togetherness. If Philip had had any doubts to
the contrary (which he didn't), they would have been quickly forgotten
following the introduction of some new toys to their repertoire.

"Next Saturday, we'll meet at your house," Josh had informed Philip one
Wednesday afternoon. "You will have the following available -- a chain that
fits snugly but comfortably around your neck, a pair of handcuffs, a
cb3000, a plain white #10 envelope, some scotch tape, a handkerchief, and a
magic marker." Philip had been expecting it. They had discussed the
chastity device and how it worked. Josh had been intrigued. Philip had
mentioned bondage before, but it didn't interest Josh particularly and it
had not yet become a part of their mutual activities. As far as the chain
was concerned, its projected use was fairly obvious. The envelope, tape,
and marker were complete mysteries.

Josh arrived promptly at the designated hour, carrying a small plastic bag
labeled "Home Depot." Philip led him (naked, on his hands and knees of
course, after fulfilling his foot kissing duties) into the bedroom where
the equipment had been assembled.

"How do these work?" Josh asked, picking up the handcuffs and noticing that
they were locked.

"Pretty straightforward, actually," Philip replied, demonstrating how they
could be put on without using the key. "To take them off, turn the key
counter-clockwise."

"All right, put your hands behind your back." Philip complied, and Josh
proved to be a quick study, carefully positioning Philip's wrists so that
the fingers of both hands were pointing inward toward each other. Click,
click. There was an immediate response on the other side of Philip's body,
and Josh noticed. "Enjoy it now, slave, because it's the last one you're
going to experience for awhile."

Josh then removed from the plastic bag a twin set of small padlocks, still
in their original package. He used his pocket knife to break it open,
pealing off the stout plastic and dropping not only the padlocks but two
small keys onto the bed. Then he put the chain around Philip's neck and
fastened it using one of the padlocks. "Too tight?"

"No, Sir, feels just about right."

"Good. We can't have you gasping for oxygen while you're in those important
business meetings of yours." And he explained that Philip would wear the
collar 24/7 until further notice.

"But, Sir..."

Josh cut him off with a wave of his hand. "You wear a dress shirt and a tie
to work, right? Nobody will notice. As far as going other places, well, you
don't need to be anywhere without my permission anyway. If you're
self-conscious about being in the grocery store, you can wear your dress
shirt and tie there also."

Philip thought about his situation. His wrists were fastened securely
behind his back. Josh had possession of the only two keys that fit the
padlock. Exactly what all the other paraphernalia were for, he didn't have
a clue, but Josh had demonstrated a creative flair on other occasions, and
he couldn't imagine any course of action other than to follow
instructions. Indeed, it began to appear to him that he really didn't have
a choice. He replied in the only manner that was safe and
appropriate. "Yes, Sir."

"Good boy." Josh put a hand on Philip's shoulder. "You'll get used to it."

"I'm sure I will, Sir."

"Ah, I see the discussion about your collar has distracted you. Now let's
see how that cb3000 works."

Although its purpose is simple, the cb3000 is actually a somewhat
sophisticated device, with several parts coming in various sizes designed
to fit a variety of men. But with a little trial and error, and the baby
oil Philip had set out on the nightstand, Josh completed his work in about
ten minutes. "Ah, I like the way that looks," he commented proudly as he
snapped the other padlock into place. He gave it a little tug, and Philip
winced. "Snug as a bug in a rug." Josh couldn't help but smile, and Philip
joined him. Josh was not noted for making frivolous comments. Despite his
helpless condition, Philip enjoyed the flippant remark, sensing that Josh
had finally become so comfortable with his role as Master that he was able
to risk a little humor.

"I can't help but wonder, Sir. What is all the other stuff for? The
envelope, and so on."

"I thought you'd never ask," Josh replied, enjoying his newly found ability
to engage in light-hearted dialogue. "It's like this. One of these keys is
going home with me. The other one ..." and here he dropped one key into his
pocket, then picked up the envelope and dropped the other one inside
"...will stay here, in your house, but only for purposes of emergency." He
sealed the envelope, taping all the potential openings for good measure,
then used the magic marker to write his initials on the envelope in several
strategic places. Finally, he covered the initials with another layer of
tape. "I'm going to hide this in your house. If you ever need it, you will
call me and I'll tell you where it is. If you don't need it, don't even
bother looking for it, because I'm going to check it every time I'm
here. If you have tampered with it, there will be serious consequences."

Josh used the handkerchief to blindfold Philip, then went on a scouting
mission throughout the latter's house. He entered every room, including the
garage and the basement, rummaging around noisily at times, quietly at
others, providing no clue to Philip about the location in which he stowed
the envelope. More than ten minutes later, he returned to the
bedroom. "Well, still nicely handcuffed, I see. And everything else seems
to be in order as well." He removed the blindfold. "Now let's redden that
ass of yours a bit."

Josh proceeded to use Philip for his pleasure, until he was completely
satisfied. Then he removed the handcuffs. "I can't see you for the next few
days, boy. My family's going on a little trip, and I'm going along. But you
can reach me by cell phone if you need me."

"Yes, Sir."

Josh bent over and kissed Philip on the lips. "I'll call you at least once
to see how you're doing. And I'll come over again as soon as I can when I
get back."

"Thank you, Sir." They went to the front door, Josh walking confidently
now, the slave on his hands and knees, kissing his Master's feet when they
reached the foyer. "Have a good time."

"Oh, I will, boy. Believe me, I will. I'll just picture you wearing that
collar and the cb3000, and I'll have a great time." He opened the door
slightly and slipped through the narrow opening, closing it behind him.

Philip stayed on his knees more than a minute, contemplating the new
conditions that restricted his life, at least for the next few days. Or
weeks. Or months. He didn't know how long it would last, and at that minute
he didn't really care.