Date: Wed, 4 May 2011 15:34:25 -0700 (PDT)
From: Paul Vanden Boogard <misfit6959@yahoo.com>
Subject: Role Reversal (Part 7)

       "Wake up," he kicked me as he passed by in the morning.
       I grunted, coming fully awake immediately.  My left shoulder hurt
from lying on the hard floor and I was shivering, a puddle of drool having
run down my cheek to pool on the floor.  I struggled to my knees, wiping my
face off on my shoulder.  Still in his pajama bottoms, my Dad went to start
a pot of coffee.
       "Training day," he said, scooping up the measuring cup to dump it
into the toilet.
       He returned it to the kitchen, then came round the corner with a
coffee cup in his hand, steam rolling of the top of it.  Yawning and
stretching, he settled into the chair at the kitchen table, sipping at the
cup tentatively.  Once again, he ignored me, opening up the newspaper from
the day before to read it.  Sighing with impatience, I sat back on my feet.
It wasn't until he went through every section that he got up and made his
way to the toolbox, and with some trepidation I wondered what he was going
to pull out next.  I could hear the sound of a chain again, two leather
cuffs dangling from it as it emerged.  He took out a second set as well and
approached me.
       "Turn around," he directed.  I glared at him a moment, then shuffled
myself around to face the wall.  The first set of cuffs he fastened on went
around my ankles, and I heard the click of the locks he applied.
Thankfully, he removed the handcuffs from my ankles, allowing me at last to
spread them apart a little.
       Next he removed the cuffs from my wrists, and as soon as they were
off I dove for the clasp that fastened the leash to the eyebolt.  I almost
had it in my hand when he grabbed the chain between my ankles, yanking hard
on it to pull me back.  I fell heavily onto my chest, the air whooshing
from my lungs.  The next thing I knew, he was kneeling on my back with one
knee, the hair on the back of my head caught up in his fist.
       "Oh no you don't," he said as his right hand came down hard on my
bare ass.  I grunted loudly.
       "I expect you to behave."
       Then he spanked, me striking my ass again and again, the pain
welling up to make my balls ache and my abdomen hurt.  I was screaming
behind the gag in my mouth and fighting to get away, but he held me firmly
in place, applying his hand over and over until I was sobbing, my ass on
fire with pain.  Too weak to move, I allowed him to cuff my wrists over my
head and lock them in place, a twelve inch chain stretching between them.
Unhooking the leash from the wall himself, he pulled me up onto my hands
and knees.
       "Try something like that again, and you'll get the same punishment."
       Tugging the leash, I was forced to crawl after him, my breath still
heaving around the ball gag.  He positioned me in front of the couch with
my head toward him, sitting back and propping up his feet to rest them
between my shoulder blades, my head pushed down between my shoulders by his
calves.  Taking a sip of his coffee, he sighed.
       "You see, you just didn't take it far enough," he tugged lightly on
the leash.  "All your arrogance and bravado, you thought you were in
control."
       He picked up his feet, sitting up to bend over my ear.
       "Now I'm going to show you what control really is," he said in a
firm and confident voice.
       Reclining again, he returned his feet to my back, leaning to dig
around in the toolbox again.  I was still in pain and in shock from the
spanking.
       "Whoops!" I heard him say.
       His feet lifted from my back again as he stood, and I felt the tug
on my collar.  I quickly crawled after him as he led me into the bathroom,
my ass cheeks still smarting. He opened a cupboard, then kicked me aside so
that he could pass again as he closed it, leading me back to the couch and
using the leash to turn me so that I knelt astride the front of it.
Pushing my head down, he dropped the leash and stepped on it with his left
foot, swinging his right foot around to straddle me as he sat, my face held
only a few inches from the floor.  I had no idea what was going to happen,
but found out only a moment later as my asshole was being spread open by
something.  I grunted sharply with the intrusion, trying to pull away and
grinding my face into the floor.  I yelled around the ball gag again as he
pushed harder, my asshole spreading painfully until my sphincter tightened
around the base of whatever he had stuck into my ass.  Using his foot, he
pushed me around on my knees until I was facing him again, the heel of his
right foot coming to rest between my shoulders.
       "There.  That's how a pussy is supposed to be kept."
       I heard him talking, but my thoughts were centered on the pain, my
insides cramping around the invading item.
       "Let's start with the rules."
       The rules.  The things I would need to obey.  I bit down on the ball
as I concentrated on what he was saying.
       "It goes without saying that I expect you to obey me.  The
difference is that if you don't, you'll be punished.  And if you think that
spanking was bad, just wait until I take a whip to your ass."
       He was going to whip me.  I felt myself jump as my eyes widened.  I
had rarely been spanked as a child, and my father had just laid into me.
And now he was going to whip me.
       "And, of course, you won't be allowed to answer the phone.  That's
really a moot point, though, seeing as you won't be in any position to
anyway.  Oh, and that butt plug?  That stays up your ass until I decide to
remove it."
       My sphincter squeezed around the base of it again, causing a dull
ache to pulse through my rectum.
       "You see, that's my pussy now.  I decide what's going to go into
it."
       There was a long pause as I waited for him to continue.
       "That would have been a good place for a `Yes, Master,'" he said.
       I blushed, and was glad that he couldn't see it.  I had said the
same thing to him.
       "Yes, Master," I mumbled around the ball.  He paused a moment more
before he spoke again, apparently satisfied.
       "You will only be allowed to stand when I tell you to, and you are
not allowed to use any of the furniture.  Your place is on the floor.  You
also will not speak unless I ask you a direct question, except to say `Yes
Master.'  Is that understood?"
       I cleared my throat again.  "Yes Master," I opened my mouth a little
further, my answer coming out as "eh, awwhe."
       "Good.  Now I'm going to let you go fetch me a coffee."
       He lifted his foot from the leash, allowing me to push myself up and
get to my feet.  I wasn't sure what to do until he held the empty cup out
to me, and didn't dare to look at him.  He had taken such utter control so
quickly that I was afraid of what might happen next, so I turned quickly
away to obey him, almost stumbling on my first step.
       There was only about a foot of chain between my ankles, forcing me
to take tiny steps.  I had to set the coffee cup down, too, one hand
following the other so I could pick up the coffee pot to pour it.  It was
very difficult to keep the cup from spilling as I returned it to him.
       He held another chain in his hand.
       Taking the cup from me, he clipped the chain to the center of the
one strung between my wrists, pulling my hands down in front of me as he
attached it to the one between my ankles.  Retrieving his cup, he sat back.
I pulled the chain taught, only able to lift my hands to my stomach.
       "Now get down here and put your face in my crotch."
       I could feel my face turn red.  I was angry and frustrated, but I
knew that I had no choice.  Shackled as I was, my father could easily
overtake me.  And if I resisted, well, I certainly didn't want to
experience another spanking.  Or worse.
       I could feel the bulge of his cock as I rested my face in his
crotch.  Fumbling with the knot, he untied the ball gag and pulled it from
my mouth.  I had to close my lips quickly, swallowing the spit that had
accumulated in my mouth.  Tossing the ball gag aside, he grabbed the hair
at the back of my head with one hand, digging through the fly of his
pajamas to pull his cock out with the other.  Holding it in his fingers, he
pushed my mouth down around it.
       "Now, I know you've sucked a cock before, so I want you to show me
just how good you've gotten at it."
       His dick was soft in my mouth as I started to suck.  I could see the
dark stubble of his pubic hair just starting to grow back.  I had been
making him shave it regularly, and wondered if he planned to let it grow
back.
       I wondered if he was going to shave me.
       "Come on, you can suck a cock better than that.  Pay attention."
       I cupped his cock with my tongue as I drew back, concentrating on
the feel of it in my mouth.  Yes, I had sucked cock before, both his and
Larry's, and actually found that I liked it.  I had always just been more
interest in blowing my load.
       I could feel his cock swell and take shape in my mouth, and I found
myself exploring its shape with my lips and my tongue.  The larger it got,
the less of it I could take in, but I wrapped my lips wetly around it and
went down as far as I could.  Letting go of my head, my Dad pushed himself
further forward on the couch, allowing me better access to his cock and
himself a better view of me sucking it.  Again I didn't dare to look up at
him.  Though I didn't mind sucking cock, this was not where I wanted to be,
submitting to him, and I knew that I would blush if I caught his eye.
       I also knew the power that he was feeling.  I knew what it felt like
to dominate someone, and that made my submission to him all the more
demeaning.
       To my dismay, I felt my own cock getting hard.
       "There you go.  How does it feel to be the bitch?"
       I didn't know if he expected an answer or not, but I was saved the
trouble of deciding when he pushed my head down hard, thrusting his cock
deep into my throat.  I almost gagged as he pulled out, but he drove his
cock in deep again, burying my nose into the stubble on his abdomen.
       "How does it feel to know that your mouth has just become one of my
fuck holes, huh boy?"
       He continued to slam his cock into my throat, and I started to fight
against him, gagging painfully.  I was on the verge of throwing up before
he finally let me go, a puddle of drool escaping from my lips as I choked
and gasped for breath.  Pushing my head down into his crotch once again, he
wiped his cock off on my face, smearing my drool all over my cheeks.
       "There, now get down there and kiss my feet.  I want you to thank me
for showing you what a weak little pussy you really are."
       I was more ashamed than ever.  I had made my Dad kiss my feet many
times, but I never realized how degrading it was.  Worse, the humiliation
was making my cock throb even harder, my asshole throbbing around the butt
plug right along with it.  Prostrating myself, I took his toes into my
mouth and started to suck on them.
       "There, that's where you really belong.  It's too bad you didn't
have it in you to be a good Master, but I'll be just as happy to turn you
into my slave."
       I had no doubt that he was going to do just that.  He had suffered a
fair amount of degradation at my hand, and I was sure that I was going to
receive much worse.
       "I'm your Father.  If it wasn't for my cock, you wouldn't even be
alive.  Well, from now on you're going to be thanking my cock for making
you with your little mouth and your little pussy hole."
       I listened to him, my eyes wide open as my tongue dragged up the
underside of his foot.  I knew that I was helpless, and I would have no
choice but to obey him.  I felt his power in my submission, my hips
gyrating of their own accord as my cock pulsed with the need to ejaculate,
the ache in my asshole becoming a sweet pain.
       Whether I liked it or not, this was going to become my life.
       There was nothing I could do but to continue to kiss and lick his
feet, sucking on his toes when he stuck them in my mouth.  He made certain
that I covered each one thoroughly before he sent me to fetch him another
coffee.  Having me set it on the coffee table, he took the leash and pulled
me back onto my hands and knees and led me back into the front hallway,
this time locking the leash onto the eyebolt.  Meandering down the hallway,
he went into his bedroom and got dressed, coming out in a pair of shorts
and a T-shirt.  He sat at the table to pull on his socks and shoes, then
disappeared out the back door.

       "Fuck, shit!" I swore out loud, just so I could use my voice.  I
sighed and looked down at the chains, wondering where he had gotten them.

       Larry.  That was my guess, anyway.
       He had said that he was going to be back in a couple of weeks, and I
wondered what that meant.
       My Dad came back in carrying a bunch of tools, and I watched as he
went to work, going from room to room with a drill and a screwdriver.  I
could see him crouch down on the living room floor in front of the couch
after traipsing through the house, drilling holes in various areas.  Though
I wasn't certain what he was doing, I had my suspicions, and they were
verified an hour later when he returned the tools to the garage before
unlocking the leash and leading me into the dining room.  There was a flat,
triangular ring fastened to the floor by a metal plate beneath the table,
which he flipped up and locked the end of the leash onto, and he had put at
least one in every room in the house.
       Except upstairs.
       He wandered out of my sight around the island separating the dining
area from the kitchen, so I moved to where I could peer from under the edge
of the table to watch him.  The height of the island didn't allow me to see
anything that he was doing.  All I could see was his head and his shoulder,
and then only if he was standing right at the island.  Turning on a burner,
he opened the refrigerator and started to prepare his lunch, washing
something out in the sink.

       "What do I do if I have to pee, Master?"
       "You shut your mouth and hold it until I indicate that you can."
       How would he indicate it?  And how often would he let me?  I sighed
and sat back on my feet and waited.  I could smell that he was frying
hamburger.

       He began to hum again as he cooked, strolling around the island to
set a big, red, plastic bowl on the floor by his chair.  It was an old dog
bowl, back from when we had had Sam, a big black lab.  It was filled with
cheerios and milk.  Fixing his plate, he took his chair at the head of the
table and began to eat, stretching his legs out beneath it.  It wasn't hard
to surmise that the cereal in the dog bowl was for me.  Crawling over to
it, I bent to eat it, the leash not quite allowing me to put my face in the
bowl.  Dad reached down and pushed it a little further under the table.
       It was humiliating, but I was getting the idea.  My father was going
to take this to extremes, and the thought of it made my cock swell again.
He was exercising true power, the type of power that I should have taken
over him.
       No freedoms, no choices.
       And no one would miss me.
       I had pretty much broken it off with my high school buddies.  I
never called them, and they never called me.  I had no job, nowhere to
report to, no one who would even notice my absence.  It was a desolate
thought.  Nothing stood in the way of my Dad keeping me exactly as I was,
naked and chained and made into his slave.
       There was no way out.
       "Make sure you lick that clean, because I am only washing it once a
week."
       I blushed, feeling the strength behind his command.  My thoughts
were so centered on what was happening, and my hard and throbbing cock,
that I didn't even realize he was getting up until I heard the chair slide
back.  The dishes clanked into the dishwasher, then I heard him shuffling
about and sighing before the back door swung opened and closed again.  I
let out a heavy breath, realizing that I had been holding my body tense
only because I relaxed it, my muscles sore with protest.
       I was a slave.  I was eating out of a dog dish, and I had to lick it
clean, and my Dad would come back at some point and he could do whatever he
wanted to me, or make me do whatever he wanted.  I knew it, and yet I
couldn't realize it.  It was almost like I was watching myself as I was
dreaming.
       Over an hour passed by while I waited for him.  My bladder ached so
badly that I was groaning with the effort to hold it in, my sphincter
squeezing around the butt plug and driving it in deeper, and I was afraid
that I was going to end up peeing on the floor.  Desperate, I glanced
around and noticed my bowl.  I knew that I might get punished for it, but I
had to empty my bladder, so I squatted over the bowl so I could piss in it.
I moaned aloud at the pain of the cramping and the relief
       It was yet another two or more hours before my Dad returned.  Unable
to find a comfortable position on the hard laminate floor, I was lying on
my back with my hands resting on my chest and my knees in the air, studying
the pattern of the wood grain beneath the table.  I thousand thoughts had
run through my mind, anywhere from childhood memories to recent activities,
but the pervading thought was that my Dad was going to be coming back, and
there was no telling what would happen when he did.  A couple of times I
had thought to pull the butt plug out, but I had no desire to put it back
in when my Dad returned, and I knew that I'd be in trouble if he found it
out.
       I heard the crinkle of a plastic bag as he threw something onto the
cupboard, and I rolled back onto my hands and knees as he came around the
island in his stockings, having kicked his shoes off at the back door.  I
dared an expectant glance up at him, worried what he was going to do when
he saw the bowl full of piss.  He ignored both it and me, however, and went
about his business, disappearing around the corner and down the hallway.  I
couldn't follow all of his actions, or determine what he was doing, but he
didn't pay any attention to me whatsoever until he served me my supper,
setting down a plate with some plain leaf lettuce and fried, sliced
potatoes, a pork steak cut into small pieces steaming off to the side.
       "You can drink what's in your bowl, because whatever is left in
there is going with your cereal in the morning anyway."
       I swallowed, nearly in tears from frustration and resignation.  I
had known that he was going to say that, though I had held out a small hope
that he wouldn't.

       That was it.  I was going to be a slave.  My Dad was going to use
me, and abuse me, and humiliate me, and degrade me in every manner that he
could think of.
       And he did.  Pulling the butt plug that first night, he used the
douche bottle that I had made him purchase to fill my rectum with hot
water, flushing me clean so that he could fuck me after sucking his cock
for a while as he watched TV.  I was grateful that at least he took it slow
the first time, though after about twenty minutes the rim of my asshole was
burning from the irritation of his cock sliding in and out of it, and I was
even more grateful when he added a little lube and increased his pace until
he groaned and shot his load, panting and sweating.  I gasped when he
pulled out, then shouted out loud when he pushed the butt plug back into
place.  Grabbing me by the hair, he had me lick his cock clean, then went
to shower and go to bed, leaving me chained to the floor in the living
room.
       Sunday was no different, though I spent the day cleaning the house,
with my Dad either standing by or sitting to the side, the leash in his
hand as he instructed me and berated me.
       "Vacuum under the chair, too.  Put that hose together and get your
grubby face down there to make sure you cover every inch."
       When my ass was in the air he would turn or wiggle the butt plug, or
grab my cock and balls and stroke them.
       "You're getting shaved today, too."
       It was an incredible experience, and my cock stayed hard the whole
time as he ran the razor over every inch of my body.  Then even the hair on
my head came off, my Dad taking it down to the scalp.  "Now that's a
slave," he laughed, and I spent the rest of the evening kissing his feet,
or with his cock in my mouth or up my ass.  Again I slept in the living
room, and when he went to work the next morning he chained me beneath the
dining room table.