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Chapter 10 ( By andy28_rl@yahoo.co.uk )
As soon as I arrived home, I stripped out of the slave dungarees and shook my head as I stared at the revolting garment that was to be my work clothing from now on. I noticed with disgust the cheap fabric stained a darker colour around the genital area and the crack of my arse, where the sweat had soaked through on my run home from work. I considered how fortunate I was that none of my neighbours had seen me enter the apartment. This was a select neighbourhood, and generally filled with the higher echelons of city life. I closed my eyes and considered my thoughts: I had to stop considering myself in those terms now. I couldn’t see any way that my lifestyle would continue now that I was a caretaker’s assistant, and an unpaid one at that. I sat up on the bed and looked around the apartment, kitted out as it was in the latest fashions, gadgets and accessories of a modern playboy. It was beginning to feel that this wasn’t my place. My mind seemed to be mentally adjusting itself to the downfall that seemed destined to be imminent.
I collapsed back down again, naked on the bed, and closed my weary eyes. I reached down and grabbed my cock. Since yesterday, my cock had seemed almost constantly exposed as it was now, hardly ever covered by any form of clothing. I was becoming like an animal, my naked flesh always on display. And when I was given permission to wear clothing, it was in the humiliating slave costume. This seemed to have been the first moment when I was alone in my nudity, not displaying my intimate parts to another man. I was glad to have a moment to myself, a moment to recover some normality on my own bed. Normally at times such as this, alone with an hour to spare, I would take the time to play with myself. Get my cock hard and manipulated. Shoot my copious amounts of jockboy cum over my abs and chest before a shower.
With a sudden sickening wrench, I sat bolt upright. I realised that I still had a used cigarette butt up my arse. How could I have forgotten ? Just the thought of this horrific realisation, the thought as I lay on my own bed that I had been deflowered in such a barbaric way, made me feel sick. I lay down onto my back again and raised my legs in the air, feeling my semi-hard cock go flaccid against my stomach as I contemplated how I would remove the cigarette butt. Carefully, the distaste etched on my face, I moved my fingers to my arsehole and pushed one finger into my tight hole, feeling around inside my own arse chute for a cigarette butt. Dennis had done his job well, and the run home had clearly pushed the butt further up my chute. I could not even feel it. I closed my eyes in frustration, and clenched my teeth in rage at this invasion of my manhood. With a sigh, I moved a smaller finger towards my hole.
At the sound of a voice, I jumped in shock and pulled my hands away from my stretched arse. “Get your hands out of your arsehole boy,” a deep voice intoned. In shock, I pushed my legs down abruptly, and sat up. George, the doorman, was stood at the foot of my bed, watching me spread legs in the air, playing with my arse. I clambered quickly to the side of the bed, covered my genitals with my hands and stood there naked.
For the first time today, I regained some semblance of manhood. “What the fuck you doing in here George? How dare you come into my apartment like this. Get the fuck out of here. I will be speaking to your superiors about this. You cant just come into people’s apartments like this.”
Though I felt the humiliation of standing before George naked, I felt sickened that he had seen me splayed on the bed, legs wide and hand groping my arsehole. And my anger at everything that had happened to me spilled out.
“I’ll have you sacked for this George. Get the fuck out of my apartment” I screamed as I moved towards him. A moment of manhood in an otherwise obedient day.
He stared impassively at me. “I don’t think the privacy of a slave is something that I need to worry about,” he sneered.
I looked at him in horror. The whole world seemed to be aware of my misery. The whole world seemed in on this determined attempt to see me debased into slavery. There was no escape, not even in my own apartment.
“I’ve just been contacted by your owner, Master Lewis. He told me to come up here and supervise you boy. He’s giving me some nice wages to do so too! I’ve offered to be your supervisor on a regular basis. So, you see, it’s ME that has been speaking to YOUR superiors slaveboy. He wanted me to make sure that you empty your ashtray of an arse properly.”
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his mobile phone. Flipping it open he looked at me. “Shall I ring him and tell him you have shouted at me? Tell him you got angry with me for entering your apartment?”
I couldn’t believe it. I simply couldn’t believe it. I was even enslaved in my own apartment, and there was nothing I could do about it. He wouldn’t even allow me a few hours alone in peace where I could rest and recover from my constant humiliations. I had no dignity left, even here in the sanctity of my own home. With sharp tears stinging my eyes, I gritted my teeth and sank to my knees. “No, please don’t,” I murmured. “Please don’t George.”
I looked at him and he closed his telephone. He paused and stared at my body, making no attempt to hide his interest in my flesh. “Take your hands away so I can see your cock boy. And my name to you from now on is not George boy. I am your superior now. Here to stop you being a naughty boy. You can call me Daddy from now on boy.”
Slowly, obediently, I stood up again, fixed my face into the grim expression of a slave and moved my hands to my sides to reveal my genitals to George. He whistled and tutted. “An old guy like me don’t get many opportunities like this boy. I intend to enjoy myself.”
Daddy? What the fuck? He smiled and took off his jacket, enjoying the obvious distress and adrenaline rush of his sudden total power over me. He came back towards me with a dining chair and sat himself down on it. And as he did so, he rested what appeared to be a thin cane on the bed in front of him. With his forefinger, he motioned for me to come towards him.
“You’ve been a naughty boy haven’t you?” he stated.
I was speechless. I had no dignity left. “Yes ….. Daddy,” I whimpered. This scene felt completely perverted. I was in the position of a naked young boy, about to be scolded and punished by my father. I wondered what my friends at the football club would think if they saw me so humiliated, naked in front of an old black guy who I was forced to call “Daddy”.
“Better come over Daddy’s knee then for your just rewards,” he continued. No hint of the kind, elderly gentleman who had always treated me with such respect.
Hesitantly, I moved towards him and positioned myself at the side of his chair. He patted his knee and I moved myself over his lap. A position I had never considered a guy like me would find myself in, ever. I lay across his lap, legs one side and my upper torso the other. I gasped as I felt him reach between my legs and pull my cock and scrotum out from under me, feeling it exposed to his eyes and vulnerable to his hands as he pulled it backwards between my legs.
He ran his hand down my back and over my bare buttocks and I heard him sigh.
“You will count out each stroke for Daddy, and then thank Daddy for punishing you boy, understand?”
“Yes Daddy,” I whispered in shock.
I lay there whimpering as I felt him playing with my buttocks, and then lean forward to pick up his cane.
Wordlessly, he lashed the cane across my buttocks with a force that I had not expected. I cried out in anguish and closed my eyes in distress.
“One Daddy. Thank you for punishing me Daddy,” I moaned, through gritted teeth, as I watched the shadow of the second cane come down on my naked arse.
Chapter 11 ( By andy28_rl@yahoo.co.uk )
At the fiftieth stroke I was a sobbing wreck. I had never felt such pain and my arse throbbed in burning anger at my punishment. Calmly, George laid the cane onto my bed and slapped my arse hard – needlessly – with his hand. “Get up boy,” he crooned.
I stood before him, and my hands moved onto my burning buttocks in distress. I stood there red faced and red arsed - tears streaming down my cheeks. I could never consider myself to be a man again after submitting to this disgusting scenario.
Through tear-misted eyes I watched as George, Daddy, stood before me and brushed my sweat-tousled hair away from my forehead. “There, there baby boy. Now tell Daddy what it is up baby’s bottom.”
I stared at him but did not have the enthusiasm or energy to argue. He knew what it was. He was in on my slavery. He was part of the gang who were out to destroy every part of my former life. As ever, my role was to go along with the situation. To submit without question. I was the butt of the joke: a pensioner was laughing at me as I stood naked before him, head bowed with a complete lack of any dignity left in me. I sighed and whimpered “A cigarette butt Daddy”.
George raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, clearly enjoying his game of humiliation over me. “Well let’s get it out then little boy. Dear, dear, some men are so clumsy where they leave their cigarette butts these days.”
He grabbed me by the arm and turned me around to face the bed, before telling me to kneel on all fours on the bed. I knelt there, head down on the quilt, my arse on prominent display to him with my cock and balls swinging between my legs.
I flinched in pain as he ran his hands across my exposed arse, the painful stripes tender to the slightest touch. Mercilessly, he smacked me hard and I screamed down flat on the bed. “Please! Please don’t” I squealed.
“Get up now boy before I give you fifty more,” he growled at me, and I slowly raised my abused arse back upwards. “Now hold still whilst I get this out boy,” he stated. “It may be uncomfortable but you will not move.”
With one steady push, I grunted as I felt him push the thin cane into my arsehole, and felt it slide remorselessly up my chute until it encountered the butt. I clenched my fists and sank my teeth into the quilt to prevent myself shouting in agony as he prodded and pushed inside me. After a few minutes in which he was clearly enjoying his assault on my vulnerable arse, I felt the offending object pop out of my arse with the cane. George chuckled in delight and grabbed my swinging genitals. With a sharp tug downwards, he laughed and shouted “Up we get baby boy.”
I stood and looked at him, and looked down at the shit-stained butt on the floor. “Looks like baby has not cleaned his arse properly. We will have to sort that out, make sure slaveboy is clean for his Masters. Now, go and empty that down the toilet. And whilst you are at it, clean the shit off this cane. You also need to wipe the backs of your legs as well.”
I walked, slightly bow-legged, into the bathroom and completed the humiliating tasks silently and quickly. I stared at my haunted and haggard face in the bathroom mirror, shaking my head in amazement. Where had the successful, handsome executive gone to? What had become of me? I turned my arse to the mirror to see the damage caused to the part of me that most hurt. It revealed a mess of red, angry marks that burnt across my skin.
I cursed George inwardly and walked back into the bedroom. He was putting on his jacket and closing his mobile phone. “Your Master is due back in just over one hour he tells me. He wants you to have completed your tasks. So get on with it slaveboy.” And without a backwards glance, he picked up his cane and left.
It didn’t take me too long to complete my assigned tasks. I was a well organised guy and had all of my financial information in a file. I shuddered to think what Lewis would do with this, but I knew that he would be having full access to my belongings anyway and it would only lead to trouble if I tried to hide anything from him. I turned to my clothes, and started the task of making piles of my clothing. Taking them off their hangers and out of their drawers and stacking them on my bed, ready for Lewis’s inspection. My athletic wear, my smart casual wear, my trendy nightclub gear and my work suits were piled separately, and then my underwear. I looked at the piles of my clothing and sighed. I wondered when next I would be allowed to wear my suit jackets or expensive club gear. No doubt this action was all a waste of my time, and I would be returning all of my gear into the wardrobe again when he had inspected it all.
Finally finished, I sat down on the floor next to the bed, mopping the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. I lay for a moment on my back, closed my eyes and felt the drowsiness of sleep. With a shot I sat myself upright again. I didn’t know what time Lewis would be coming around and didn’t want him having an excuse to beat me. I was exhausted from the strains of my day and just wanted to rest. Falling asleep in any unauthorised place would not have been a wise move though. And so the best solution seemed to be to do as Lewis had commanded me, and get into my slave position and wait.
I cursed myself for my submission as I stood up and padded into the hallway. I lay down and prostrated myself face down on the hall floor. And, arms and legs spread in a wide X, I lay naked on the cold stone floor and waited for my tormentor to arrive home from work. Arrive home to my apartment. My mind dozed in and out of sleep as I lay there, pathetic and humble like a truly controlled slave on the floor of my own apartment. Not changing my position, spreadeagled face down and feeling the burning in my arse.
Finally, my stomach fluttered in anxiety as I heard the unlocked door to my apartment being opened, and saw Lewis’s shoes appear in front of me on the floor. I lay still and held my breath as he walked around me, stopping to run the sole of his shoe over my abused arse and chuckle. He did not speak. He simply disappeared into the apartment and I heard him progress into the bedroom, no doubt to check my work.
Naked and spreadeagled, I lay and listened. The sounds of a normal guy coming home from work, and getting himself ready for a relaxing evening. A normal domestic scene. I heard him open my refrigerator and crack open a bottle of beer then carry on with his business.
A normal domestic scene. Normal except for the fact that he had another human being, another man, lay naked in the hallway waiting silently for his master’s voice.
I lay expectantly, waiting for a command that did not come. He came into the hallway and kicked off his shoes without acknowledgement, before returning to the living room and switching on the TV. I heard him fix himself something to eat and sit down to eat, and I heard my own stomach grumble in complaint that I had not even had an opportunity to eat today. I licked my lips and imagined Lewis with his food and his beer. A luxury that I could not even consider at the moment, lay naked in the draughty hallway.
My confused mind tried to make sense of the situation as I lay there unmoving and alone, spreadeagled naked like a piece of furniture on the cold floor. I was unsure if I should remain here. He was completely ignoring me, treating me as if I was a doormat that did not deserve acknowledgement. The minutes ticked on and I became more and more uncomfortable at this utter waste of my time, this total lack of regard for me even being a human being. He could just leave me like this, spread naked, just because he said so and I was expected to lie and wait for his command. He could completely ignore me and I would still remain still, mute, waiting. I was no longer a man, I was a piece of his owned property. Waiting to be told when I could move. I heard him get up from his seat and go through to the bedroom, closing the door behind him. And still I lay there, unmoving. Out of his sight, but still waiting and yearning for his command to get up.
Chapter 12 ( By andy28_rl@yahoo.co.uk )
I lost track of time, lying there in naked misery. My body stiff in its X as the wind blew under the doorway and over my exposed flesh. It was sometime later that the bedroom door opened again and he came into the hallway, casually dressed in my best jeans and one of my shirts. He threw an item at me and barked “Get dressed.”
Painfully, stiffly, I moved and dragged myself up. I looked at the item that he had thrown at me. It was my blue jockstrap, the one I wore under my shorts at weight training and running classes. I pulled it on over my genitals, for once thankful that my arse cheeks were to be left bare for a while, and walked into the bedroom after Lewis.
At the foot of the bed were several full refuse sacks. I looked on the bed and quickly realised that the sacks contained almost all of my clothing. A few selected items lay in a pile on the bed, but most of it had disappeared into the sacks. At the side of these items was the file of my documents. The documents that filed the details of my life, now in Lewis’s hands. Everything. Everything that signalled my identity as a human being was there in a plastic wallet, in Lewis’s hands. Looking through the transparent plastic of the document wallet, I noticed in dismay that he had also thrown in my wallet, my house keys and my mobile phone. He had everything. I had no belongings left. Nothing that I could call mine.
Lewis allowed me to notice his work around the room, before stating bluntly “slaves have no need for clothes.” I turned to him in anguish and confusion, feeling my whole life disappear into his hands. “I will decide what you wear, if you wear anything.”
I hung my head. Defeated.
“I have kept a few items for myself, and a few simple necessities, but otherwise you have no need for clothes. So we are going into town to drop these at the charity shop. They are about to have a very good day ! Come on slave, we don’t have much time,” he continued and picked up his car keys.
I couldn’t believe I was about to give away my clothes. All of them. I would own only my slave dungarees and this blue jockstrap. Everything else was going. It seemed unreal. It simply could not be happening. My mind was in turmoil but my mouth remained unable to form any meaningful protest, and I moved towards the sacks and paused in horror. This was my life. In his hands. I prayed this nightmare would soon end and he would release me from this constant control. I pulled myself together quickly, grabbing the four sacks and followed Master out of the room. He paused to admire his shirt in the mirror and slipped on his sunglasses, as I stood laden with sacks and almost naked, waiting for him to groom himself.
“Come on,” he snarled and opened the door to the apartment, motioning me out.
“Master, I am only wearing a jockstrap,” I reminded him.
“And? Your little cock is covered. That’s all that needs covering in public. You will only be walking across a pavement and into a shop from the car. Get out slave.”
I wailed in panic. “Please Master. My neighbours. The police. I cant go out like this. My caned arse is on display Sir, please …”
“GET OUT!” he shouted.
We passed a smiling George in the hallway as we exited the apartment block. We must have looked a sight: the confident, smartly dressed Lewis dressed in his finery and wearing his dark sunglasses, keys to my sports car in his hand. And behind him, laden down with sacks containing my former clothes,the almost naked slaveboy in only his jockstrap, barefoot and with caned arse on full display. We moved out into the late afternoon sunshine, and walked down the path towards my sports car, my head bowed in torment at the prospect of a neighbour seeing me dressed in this obscene way.
At the car, Lewis pressed the remote and opened the locks before moving around and opening the rear boot of the car. I dumped the bags inside and stood there, the goosebumps rising on my exposed flesh and my mind screaming at him to allow me inside the car.
“Get in then,” he growled.
I looked at him in confusion.
“The boot is for luggage. For objects. You are not a person. Get in the boot slave,” he continued. “I don’t want to be seen in public with you.”
An object, not a person. I climbed into the boot of the car and cowered there as he stood above me. He looked down and raised his – my – expensive sunglasses to show me his eyes. They twinkled in delight as he beheld me crouching and squashed, eyes wide in terror, like an animal in the boot.
“And whilst you are in there, you may want to consider this. I am not entirely merciless slave boy. Once you have given away all of your clothes, I am allowing one aspect of your life to continue this evening.”
Crouched there in the boot amongst the refuse sacks, I looked up at him. A glimmer of hope crossed my eyes and I looked up expectantly, gratefully, at the prospect of some relief.
“You will be going to football practice as normal,” he smiled. And with a chuckle he slammed down the boot.
I crouched in the darkness and considered his words in horror. How could I go to football ? My hair shaved to a stubble, my arse shredded to pieces and wracked in pain ? I could not tell my fuck story as they would demand – I could not buy a pint, being now completely without access to any form of money - and what is worse I knew for sure that the story of my humiliation at the office today would have got around. Not to mention Anna having mentioned our break up to some of the guys’ girlfriends. How could I possibly go to football practice ? I would be a freak, a laughing stock. I could not imagine playing my normal role of confident leader and jock. It didn’t seem right now somehow. I shuddered as the ramifications of those horrible thoughts hit home: the thought that it didn’t seem right for me to be a confident jock anymore.
I closed my eyes as I heard the engine burst into life, and the sound of music – Lewis’s music – blaring through my car stereo. Resigned to imminent exposure in public, I resolved to plead with Lewis to allow me to miss football practice. And as the car lurched away, I braced my exhausted fingers and toes against the sides of the car. A humble slaveboy crouched desolately in the boot of his car.
Thankfully, I didn’t realise the other dreadful appointment that awaited me prior to football practice.
Chapter 13 ( By andy28_rl@yahoo.co.uk )
Of course I had never been to the charity shop. I had never needed to go into the cheaper shops on the edge of town. As the car sped through the streets, with me locked in my jockstrap in the boot, I tried to envisage exactly where I would be running: running virtually naked across the pavement and into the shop. I tried to understand in my head how it could possibly have reached a stage where I was prepared to do this ridiculous task. To accept it as part of my life.
Suddenly, I felt the car pull up and the engine stop. From his position in the driver’s seat, Lewis shouted “The shop is around the corner from here boy. Get out and give them your clothes then climb back into the boot again.”
He was not even getting out of his seat. No doubt he would have a prime view of my humiliation from where he sat, a good opportunity to laugh at my continued demise as I ran naked to give my clothes away to charity. He clicked the release catch on the car and the bonnet flew open, sending a sharp blast of the cold wind over my cramped body. Shaking uncontrollably – in fear rather than cold – I stepped gingerly out of the boot and found myself in a small side street. Ahead of the car, I could see a busy road with cars and a bus passing the gap ahead of me. Miserably, I considered the fact that it must now have been between 4 and 5pm, and was clearly a busy time of day.
Adrenaline pumped through me as I took a deep breath and picked up the bags. With a run, I headed for the gap at the top of the alley, my brain screaming for me to stop, the pulses in my temples pounding with fear and my legs shaking. I turned onto the high street and looked right, then left. In the blur of noise and people, my eyes were not working correctly and my mind was panicking, hyperventilating in this ridiculous situation. Stood like some freakish Tarzan, wearing a jockstrap on a main road as it approached rush hour on a Monday afternoon.
A smartly dressed man in a business suit glared at me in disgust, shaking his head at my appearance and making a large semi circle around me so as not to be associated with this ridiculous naked creature that was only days ago a business man like him. Days ago but a lifetime ago, I reflected.
“The red light district is up that way love,” an overweight woman around the same age as myself shouted, looking me up and down and laughing aloud to her friend as she walked by. “How much do you charge?”
I looked down at my bare feet and then jumped as a double decker bus passed yards in front of me. I noticed a group of teenage girls pointing at me and shrieking with laughter. I was an object of ridicule. I was rooted to the spot, visually searching for the shop and afraid to move in the wrong direction.
I shot forward as I felt someone touch my exposed arse cheeks from behind me. I turned and saw a group of lads, in their early twenties. They grinned as I turned in panic and met their accusing stares with a frightened glance. “Alright pretty boy? Somebody been spanking your arse have they?” shouted a large biker-type, dressed all in black leather.
People everywhere. Not one of them showing sympathy for my plight. All of them content to judge me: pervert, sexual deviant, figure of fun. Not me. Not the real person that I am. That I was.
Suddenly, from out of the mists of panic, I saw the charity shop across the street. Barefoot, jock-strapped, I ran into the road, and dodged the still traffic queuing at the lights, running up to the shop and flying inside.
I ran to the counter and shoved the bags down quickly. “These are for you,” I shouted, hiding my red crimson face as best as I could, before turning and exiting as quickly as possible, giving them no doubt a clear view of my cane-striped arse. And I left my entire collection of clothes to be sold in a shop that I would never have even considered entering only last week. It flashed across my mind that the blue jock strap I was wearing was one of my only possessions now and - as the horror of this seeped into my brain – I crashed into a man, feeling the warm fabric of his clothing against my skin. I bumped off him and crashed down onto the pavement. Without the bags to hide at least some of my flesh, I felt even more naked as I lay sprawled on the floor of the high street.
“Hey! Watch out,” he cried before turning and seeing my ridiculous appearance. “What the fuck …… Fuck me, Gary is that you?” he gasped, mouth open in amazement.
I looked up and met the eyes of James, midfielder for the football team and one of my social mates. I yelped in utter despair, backing away from him on the floor before glancing around to get my bearings. For a second I looked around and the whole world seemed to be staring at me. James, the people on the pavement, the passengers in cars and a bus on the road. All staring at naked boy on the floor. The second etched into my brain before I scrambled to my feet and ran like a startled rabbit, past the beeping horn of a group of girls in a car and down the alleyway back down to the safety of my Master, the safety of my boot. I no longer cared that James and the rest of the world looked at my sprinting caned arse with bewilderment as the naked man disappeared as quickly as he had arrived. I just ran as fast as I could to return to slavery.
With one desperate scramble, I leapt into the darkness of the boot and closed the bonnet above me. I closed my eyes and felt the beating of my heart in my ears, the deafening silence of the boot contrasting with the inner drum beats of panic and adrenaline. My chest heaved and I felt the hairs on my body standing on end. There was more room now in the boot, now that my clothing had been disposed of, and I turned my face down to the floor. In sheer relief, I let the tears flow freely as Master’s car sped away.
We drove for five minutes. Five minutes in which my heart rate slowed and my breath returned to normal. Five minutes in which my cheeks continued to glow in the burning shame of having run in such a shameful way in public. Now that James had seen me, I could only fear what the other guys at rugby would think when they heard about the new Gary.
I heard the handbrake pulled on and the engine die, and instinctively knew that we were not yet home. I also knew that – wherever we were – it would spell further trouble for me. I heard the car door slam and the crunch of Lewis’s boots on gravel as he moved away from the car. Leaving me locked cramped in the boot.
Curled up as I was, imprisoned in the boot, I wished I could stay there, hidden from the eyes of accusing people, the mind of my fiendish captor. However, five minutes later I heard the crunch of boots again, and the boot flew open. I looked up at Lewis. He smiled and laughed softly.
“I need to go and supervise some work that I am having done at my new apartment,” he stated. “Whilst I am gone, you will be spending an hour getting pampered here boy. This is the first time I have had my slave in public. You had better not let me down slave. Understand?”
“Yes Master,” I whimpered.
“Open your mouth,” snarled Lewis. I did so and he pushed a pill into my mouth before telling me to get out of the car. “Follow me.”
I followed him across a gravelled car park, the gravel digging into my bare feet, and around the side of a building. We walked across a pavement in a normal suburban area and into a shop. I followed behind Master into what appeared to be some sort of grooming salon, though the occupants were all male. As a straight jock boy, I always used proper male barber shops. Expensive but male. I looked in distaste as a very effeminate man minced over to Lewis and started to simper at him. Lewis joined in the banter as I looked around at a guy who was having his hair cut, and wondered what I was doing here. I had no hair any more, only stubble.
“This is my slave Pierre,” Lewis stated moving aside and looking at me. “I will be back for him in an hour.”
“O yes Lewis. Quite a hunk isn’t he?” minced the gay boy, eyeing me up and down like a piece of meat.
Lewis turned and exited and I stood facing the queer, unsure of what to do.
Chapter 14 ( By andy28_rl@yahoo.co.uk )
Lewis chuckled as he closed the door behind him, leaving his slave to begin the next stage of his emasculation. His Master Plan was working perfectly and Gary’s destruction was working a treat. The arrogant bastard would never again look down on him and Lewis had got himself a real slave boy in the bargain. He intended that Gary would be enslaved deeper and deeper over the coming months until he was completely broken. A total slave in every meaning of the word. He adjusted his hardening cock in his jeans – turning the arrogant straight jock boy into a slave was all that he needed to satisfy his sadistic tendencies. But he also had friends like Dennis and George who would be helping him along the way.
Lewis was a smart guy. He had always known that the blackmail video of Gary fucking the girl would only act as a trap to catch Gary, and carry out the initial stages of enslavement. It wasn’t enough to keep Gary enslaved once the immediate shock of his slavery had disappeared, When Gary began to live the life of a slave on a permanent basis, he needed a reason to remember that his slavery was not open to discussion, and that the police were not an option open to him. Gary was already reaching a situation where it would be preferable to go to prison rather than remain a slave and Lewis knew he needed further guarantees to ensure that Gary remained the dutiful slaveboy that he needed him to be.
Lewis strolled down to the flats only a few hundred yards from the grooming salon. He entered the basic hallway and wrinkled his nose at the smell of stale urine and the vomit in the corner. The escalator was broken and so Lewis climbed the stairs to Dennis’s third floor apartment. With a cursory knock, he turned the handle and entered the small apartment, leaving the mean corridor behind him.
Dennis chose to live in his own neighbourhood. Where he was feared and respected. He had the large villa in Spain and the trappings of wealth that would allow him to retire into luxury at 40. But at the moment, he was happy to live in the flat where he grew up with his brothers and mother.
Lewis and Dennis were no classmates at school. They were never friends. Lewis had discovered Dennis’s sideline as a city gangleader – a big name in the black market that underpinned any major city – quite by accident when he uncovered some illegal substances stored in the basement. No one ever went down to the basement area. No one went there but Lewis, who was constantly seeking new avenues to raise money for the business. Only Lewis, constantly looking for ways to improve his position in the business, could stumble across Dennis’s ill-gotten gains.
Their initial argument had turned into an interesting discussion. Lewis was made to realise that Dennis was a good man to have on his side. Dennis could do things for Lewis. Dennis had contacts. His role as caretaker was a front: an alibi. It gave him a place to store his gear, a place to exchange gear. It gave him an alibi for his whereabouts during the day. It gave him a meeting place.
Dennis had offered Lewis stolen gear, but Lewis’s fiendish mind had realised that he would prefer to steal something else. He would prefer to steal the freedom of Gary. Unshakeable, Dennis had listened with interest to Lewis’s wishes and together they had formed the plan that would wreck the life of Gary. It had been easy for Dennis to arrange for one of his call girls to be fucked by Gary. It had been easy to use his uncle George as an accomplice in the plot. It was now easy for Dennis to use his legal contacts to erase Gary’s life – his financial records, his health records, his property – and transfer any assets into Lewis’s name. Gary no longer had a car or a house: both had been signed over to Lewis that very afternoon using Dennis’s contacts in the right places.
Dennis was only too happy to comply. He would have a continued storage place that was safe from the police, he would have some proceeds from Gary’s former life of luxury and he would also have his own piece of white male flesh that he could use in as many ways as he wished. Dennis was straight to the world, but he had a bisexual tendency that needed satisfying. Gary represented an opportunity to carry out his sexual fantasies in every way over the coming months and years. He was also a useful acquisition for any potential clients who would enjoy fucking former straight white jock boys. It could easily be a deal clincher in Dennis’s line of business.
Lewis and Dennis smiled at the display that Dennis had lovingly created on the wall of his spare bedroom. Their preparation had been thorough but now looked so worthwhile. The videocam stills of Gary naked in his office, the pictures of him crawling naked from under his desk. The pictures of him kneeling naked in the bathroom and in the basement. His obscene costumes as he ran through the city’s streets and the company’s offices and even the stills taken by Dennis’s man on the high street only twenty minutes ago.
All of these pictures painted a picture of a sexual deviant, an exhibitionist, a freak. They were all devastating evidence of Gary’s perverted existence, should he wish to protest against his treatment.
But even this was not enough. Lewis smiled and crouched down to look at the crowning glory. The pictures that had been taken in the middle of the night last night from the inside of Gary’s family home. Taken by Dennis’s employee. The home of his parents and his 10 year old brother. There was Gary’s parents fast asleep in bed, there was little Jonathan asleep in his bedroom. Both snapped using a professional camera to ensure there was no doubt in Gary’s mind. They knew exactly how to reach his family.
The final pieces would be put into place this afternoon. Gary would accompany Lewis to this very flat to meet Dennis and be told the real identity of his new boss, and learn how his future was destined to be total slavery. And if he wanted to go to the police? Well fine ! But any freedom that he gained would be tempered with the loss of his family. Dennis’s henchmen would see to that.
Lewis stood up and grinned at Dennis. They had done it. It had all fallen into place. Lewis was sure that Gary would soon know his true place was one of a slave. For the sake of his family, he would be forced to forget about what he once was. Better to live as a slave than submit his family to what could happen.
Chapter 15 ( By andy28_rl@yahoo.co.uk )
Pierre the gay tosser was beneath contempt as far as I was concerned. I didn’t usually speak to queers: me and the football guys had a good laugh at their expense on many an occasion. On a night out, I did a good impression of a bender with my mate Ben, as we mimicked various poofs that we knew. I had always thanked God that I was a red blooded handsome male, rugged and manly and straight. And so as I watched Lewis leave the shop and leave me stood in this alien environment, my eyes turned to Pierre and I felt a sneer of contempt on my face. He waited until Lewis had exited the shop and then turned to me. With a distinctly different tone that showed I was completely unworthy of any respect, the queer shouted “You can get in that corner boy, stand with your face to the wall until we are ready for you.”
He pointed to a corner and I hesitated. I didn’t take orders from faggots like him. I made to move and then stopped fleetingly. I thought of telling him to “fuck off” but I knew that Lewis would make me regret it if I did. My arse cheeks were testimony to what happened when I tried to rebel. And so, resentfully, I swaggered across there to the corner. I know that the reader will feel I had no reason to swagger in the position I find myself in as a slave, but it made me superior to the faggot. I am superior. I am in a dodgy situation but I am still 100% hetero male British Beef !
I stood there, head facing the corner and simmered with rage at my treatment as the conversation in this ridiculous shop continued, and someone commented loudly on my “cute striped arse”. Given half an opportunity, I intended to tell this cocksucker what I thought of queers like him, even if he was doing whatever it was that he would do. I felt angry that I was being treated as the inferior in such a feminine environment. It would be interesting to see how they coped with grooming me, whatever the hell that meant.
I stood there for at least five minutes, like a naughty boy in the corner, aching to rub my exposed and sore arse cheeks as they continued to burn but determined not to draw attention to myself. I could imagine the queers were already eying up my exposed body as I stood there in only my jock strap.
I moved my hand to my brow. It was getter hotter in here. I could feel my body swaying. My vision started to blur and I suddenly thought of the pill that Lewis had given me. With a crash, I fell backwards in a heap.
When I came around, my blurred vision looked up at Lewis, looking down at me with a contented look on his face. I was awake and time had clearly passed. Confused, I felt my head jerk to the side as he slapped me across my cheek. “Enough rest boy! You’ve got a few minutes slave before we leave so get yourself awake.”
He turned to the queerboy, who simpered around him and fawned as Lewis handed him a bundle of notes. “I will book him for this time every week, so you can finish your depilation treatment programme. I will pay you weekly.”
Depilation? What did he mean depilation treatment?
My head lolled to the side like a drunkard and the queer grasped it in his hand and pushed me back onto the seat. Depilation ? Didn’t that mean `hair removal’ ?He giggled and I heard him murmur “He’s in for quite a shock I would say Sir!”
I opened my eyes and looked pleadingly at Lewis, wondering what the hell he had done to me now. I met Lewis’s eyes and knew from their sparkle that he had performed some other humiliation on me that would no doubt drag me further down into the life of slavery that he had planned.
My cockiness from earlier had gone and I no longer felt the confident jock in a room of sissies. He slapped me across the other cheek and barked “Listen up slave. Listen to Pierre as he tells you about the treatment he has done on you.”
Pierre stepped forward as I slouched in the chair and pulled me upwards so that I was upright. With a flourish, he pulled away the white sheet that covered me and I stared uncomprehendingly at the full length mirror in front of me. I shook my head in disbelief, wondering if the drugs were hallucinogenic as I looked at my naked body.
“The depilation laser treatment will be sore for a few weeks boy, but once we have finished in 6 weeks time you will not need to repeat it. You will be permanently hairless. And it wont have any chance to grow back between each treatment, so you are with immediate effect hairless for life boy. You wont feel hair on your body ever again. Good job don’t you think Lewis?”
Lewis ran his hands down my smooth chest and stomach, then up my arms. He also rubbed down my smooth legs in approval and smirked at my horrified expression. “Looks as naked as the day he was born,” he countered. “Nice smooth body and legs for my bitch boy.”
“His crack, arse and balls are also permanently shaved,” Pierre beamed.
I stared at my denuded body. I had not thought it possible to feel more naked than I had when stood in front of Dennis and George today, when lying under my desk in my former office. But this was a different level of nudity. I reeled at his comment. Permanently hairless. My chest hair, my trail of hair running up to my abs, my armpit hair. My masculine hairy legs. All gone. Forever. Like a bitch. Like a woman.
“Now for under his jockstrap,” Pierre stated, moving around to the side and allowing a muscular bearded man to come in and witness the continued mutilation of my once straight and athletic jock body. A casual observer of the destruction of my body as a normal male. Pierre grabbed both sides of the front of my jock and pulled down the front of my jock with a flourish. “Da daaah! “ he sang.
I felt the bile in the pit of my stomach rise as I looked at my pubis. It had always been a dense patch of black hair, but now it was an abomination. Above my cock was a small triangle of pink-dyed hair, obscenely pointing downwards towards my newly shaved genitalia. And the rest of my pubis, other than the pink triangle, was as smooth and hairless as the rest of my body. As the bearded man whistled through his teeth and commented that I looked a “pretty boy”, I felt my breath constrict in shallow sobs as I continued to consider that this was now my body, permanently. No matter if I did ever escape this new life, I would still never escape what had been done to me in the last hour. I would never feel my hairy chest or legs or groin again.
Pierre paused to let us look at the freak show that was now my own abused body, before he continued to pull down my jock. Words cannot describe my feelings as I looked at the word OWNED tattooed downwards on the outward facing shaft of my penis in bold black print. And then the revulsion as my cock was popped out of its pouch to reveal a large silver ring piercing the end of my cock.
Lewis reached down and hooked his finger in the ring, pulling my cock upwards and lifting my arse cheeks off the seat as I felt the unfamiliar feel of the ring in my flesh. “Be careful, it’s a deep piercing. Will take a few days to heal. I suggest you don’t use it for anything too extreme for a few days,” Pierre cautioned. I looked at him, but he was talking to Lewis and not me. Lewis used my cock, not me.
“Excellent Pierre, I am really …” Lewis smiled and he ruffled my shaved head.
“Don’t forget his other tattoo,” Pierre interrupted and he held up a barber’s mirror to show me the tattoo on the back of my neck. There, clearly, was a black and white bar code with numbers written underneath. “Just check we got your mobile phone number correct,” Pierre frowned.
“Yes that’s right. He wont get lost,” Lewis beamed.
I had been permanently bar coded with Lewis’s mobile number across my neck. For the rest of my life. An owned piece of property to be tagged. For life.
There was nothing for me to say as I stood up behind Master, running my hands over my newly denuded body in shock and feeling the weight of my penis piercing in my jockstrap. I felt lower than I had ever felt. I felt utterly owned and degraded. I felt like a man bitch, hairless, pink pubed and sporting a cock piercing. I looked like a gay nancy boy. The feelings of superiority had gone and I had succumbed in this feminine environment.
And then for the first time it struck me with a sickening realisation. My utter degradation and ownership would lead to me becoming a sexual slave. This was not just about work as a slave and about humiliation on a daily basis. He intended that I was a sex object to be used. As I stared at the gay boy in front of me and looked sheepishly at my Master, I curled my bare toes on the floor. Surely he would not make me a gay boy ?
Lewis turned around to face me and threw a bag at me. “Get dressed,” he barked. I reached into the bag and pulled out its belongings. Shakily, I dressed in the white skin-tight t shirt, the light blue tight fitting shorts and the blue football socks. I felt my heart sink as I recognised that this was what Lewis intended me to wear at football practice. I tried to focus on my need to beg him for mercy and to be allowed to miss football practice when I left the shop.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My skin tight costume, buzzed head and hairless body made me look like a freak. Self-consciously, I rubbed my hand across the back of my neck, where Lewis’s mobile number was prominently on display.
There was no way I could go to football practice like this. I was no longer a straight looking jock boy, I now looked like a gay faggot. The sort of faggot that we always loved to ridicule as a football team.
Chapter 16 ( By andy28_rl@yahoo.co.uk )
Having been dragged from the gay salon, my mutilated body exposed to the world under my minimal football kit, I listened in horrified stupor in the apartment of Master Dennis. Lewis took great delight in parading me naked in my newly denuded and humiliated slave fashion accessories for the laughing Dennis. I cringed naked before these two overwhelmingly straight and fully dressed guys, and felt the degradation of being a total slave.
Finally, I stood naked with legs spread and hands on my stubbled head. I listened in sickening misery to the full story of Lewis’s master plan, and the true identity of Dennis. I saw the pictures of my transformation from city analyst to naked property displayed on the obscene wall of shame that Dennis had created.
I cried openly at the sight of my little brother and parents, and nodded my head in understanding that, for their sakes, I could never again be free. I listened in horror as Dennis outlined how my parents would be killed and my brother tortured and killed if I ever tried to escape, if I ever tried to disappear or reveal my slavery to the authorities. My mind resolved that I would never put my family at risk: I had to accept that I was a victim now, a slave for the rest of my life, and that I would never again be free. I had to accept and agree that my life as a free jock boy was over. From now on, Lewis owned me and he could do as he wished with me. I didn’t like it, and I knew that there would be degradations that I couldn’t envisage ever accepting. But I would be forced to submit, and forced to become the obedient, humble slave that they expected me to be. I had no freedom now.
I stood stony-faced, head bowed, naked; knees shaking in terror at the realisation that slavery was my future destiny. No release ever. No prospect of ever being treated as a man again. And I listened in tears as Lewis explained that he would visit my parents soon. Tell them about my supposed breakdown and my new-found homosexuality. He would tell them that he was looking after me and that I would only contact them when I was ready. A readiness that would never come. Slowly and deliberately, every facet of my former existence would be wiped away, so that I could become the slave that he wanted me to be.
He ended by asking me if I understood my new position in life. I wiped away my tears and looked up at him through bleary eyes. “Why me? Why are you doing this to me? What have I done to deserve this?”
Lewis looked me in the eyes and answered in a matter-of-fact, monotone voice that betrayed no emotion.
“Because I can. Because I have the power to transform you from successful athlete and businessman to humble, naked slave. I have enjoyed doing this to you, and I will continue to enjoy it. Taking everything away from you and destroying every part of your humanity. I enjoy knowing that from now on every minute of every day of your future will be spent in slavery, serving me as my naked property. Always trying to please me, focused on how you can be of service to me. You will always be aware of your status as a naked animal. Always aware that your existence is full of utter hopelessness, utter degradation and shame. You will be desperate to avoid punishments that will come regularly, and desperate to please your masters.”
I felt my eyes glaze over as I shuddered at the words that seemed so full of evil, and the complete lack of any mercy. “But why me Sir? Why me?”
“You are the embodiment of a supposed red-blooded, attractive, successful, athletic man. The guy who everyone admires. The guy who women want to go to bed with, and guys want as their mate. It is your success in every field that attracts me. That makes me want to destroy you. It makes your fall to slavery so much more exciting and devastating.”
And so my life was to be destroyed and I was destined for a life of slavery, just to amuse him. I hung my head and stood there waiting for further commands, as Lewis and Dennis left me alone and moved into the living room, switching on the TV set. I stood there – naked and unmoving – and allowed the unending misery of my future to be accepted by my numbed brain.
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Half an hour later, I sat naked in the passenger seat of my former sports car, my bare feet spread wide on the dashboard exposing my shaved legs and cock to any passer by or fellow motorist at traffic junctions. Lewis drove me on the journey to one of my favourite times of the week, football practice. I looked across at him, dressed smartly and casually, and considered the fact that he was now my owner. I submitted to his commands with a mix of horror, shame and fear.
As a free man, I had always loved every aspect of football. Now I sat naked and contemplated the horror of the next few hours. I did not want to take any part in the forthcoming football practice.
Lewis informed me that he had ways of knowing if I carried out his orders. I dared not even consider that he was exaggerating and resolved that I would do whatever he told me to do. I could not win, and the shame and sickening horror of my slavery was out of my hands. Lewis informed me that I would take part in every aspect of training as normal, and that I would shower as normal after the game. I would join my former friends in the social club afterwards although he would give me no money. He would also give me no towel, no clothes to change into after football. I would remain there in the social club for 30 minutes: no longer and no shorter. At 9.30pm, I would leave the social club and run home to my apartment. I would do this wearing only my shorts and football socks. No shirt, which would be left behind at the social club. On arriving at the door of my apartment, I would remove my shorts and socks and kneel naked at the door. Only then would I knock to be allowed in by Master Lewis.
I nodded in confirmation that I understood the commands of my Master. “Yes Master I understand Master,” I whispered. I shivered in fear and shame at my terrible predicament, feeling the goose pimples up my spine at the horror of each humiliating detail.
My car pulled up at the changing room, next to the football pitch. Looking across for Master’s confirmation, I pulled my legs down onto the floor. “Have a good practice session slave and I will see you later,” Master sneered.
I paused, a shivering wreck of nerves, and looked across at him. He nodded. With a deep breath, I opened the door to my former car and stepped naked outside. I ran around to the boot and pulled out my basic clothing.
As his car sped into the darkening gloom, I stood there naked and alone, and I contemplated my vulnerable dependency on him now. Forced to submit to his every word. And he knew with the certain resolve of his total authority over me that I would follow his plans and would be home when he told me to be home.
Shakily, I pulled my obscenely tight shorts on over my hairless cock and winced as the piercing tugged at me. In the vain hope that it was only a horrible dream, I ran my hands across my abused groin. I felt the smooth skin where once there was pubes. I felt the bleached triangle that was my new pubic bush. It was reality now. And forever.
I pulled on my tight football shirt and socks, and carried my football boots. And whimpering in utter terror, the bile rising in my throat, I moved towards the entrance to the changing rooms.
Tonight, I would not be flinging back the door to make my usual entrance with a shout, the centre of attention for my team mates. The former athletic football captain would never return again now. I sighed and turned the handle, taking a giant step into a world where I no longer belonged. The world of the confident jock boys.
Chapter 17 ( By andy28_rl@yahoo.co.uk )
I felt like a naughty schoolboy with a guilty secret as I crept into the changing room at football practice. I felt my cheeks redden instinctively, and I steadied my shaking legs as I made my way silently to my locker, head down. The room was full of idle chatter and the sound of football studs on the tiled floor, as guys made their way outdoors. Only stopping to nod at me and look in surprise at my shaved head.
My whole body was alert, my reflexes prepared to spring into action like a startled rabbit, ready to defend myself. I had always been king of this domain, captain of the team, and now I could not speak or look any of my team mates and friends in the eye. I felt like the new boy on his first day at work, friendless and anxious to keep a low profile. But this was on a different level: I was a slave, an inferior to all of these free guys, and I felt how far I had fallen since Saturday’s match, the last time I had been a true man.
Normally I would arrive in smart shirt and jeans and change into my top-of-the-range football gear. I would be carrying my sports bag with towel, and toiletries. Today, I had no gear other than the tight fitting shirt and shorts, no towel or toiletries. I didn’t even have the key to my own locker.
Wordlessly, I sat down on the bench in front of my locker and toyed with my boots as I waited for the inevitable comments.
Most of the guys had gone outside already, but five remained, and it was Kyle who spoke first. “What’s the haircut in aid of Gary? Bit extreme isn’t it mate?”
I looked across and opened my mouth. It felt strange to be able to speak freely, not confined by humbly answering my Master as His inferior. It was not only strange though, it felt frightening and unnatural to be speaking freely.
“Just fancied a change mate. Didn’t turn out the way I expected though,” I replied, clearing my throat and trying to speak clearly. I had spent the last day mumbling submissively and I tried hard not to replicate this now. I was used to being loud, confident and in control of the conversation.
I felt five sets of eyes looking at my ridiculous haircut, and looking at my cheap and body-hugging outfit as I sat there. They sensed that something was different about me, they sensed my change of character. The conversation continue amongst themselves as my unsteady hands put on my football boots and stood up, following the other four guys onto the football pitch with a sickening knot in my stomach.
Coach had already started his discussion about Saturday’s game and so I crept to the back, hoping not to be noticed. I was of course noticed, and the puzzled looks at my new appearance were not allowed to surface as coach was speaking. I rubbed the back of my sore neck with my hand, feeling my new bar code with my Master’s telephone number, burning like a clear signal of ownership into my muscular neck.
I kept my face focused on coach during his talk, feeling the accusing stares of other guys and the nudges as discrete fingers were pointed at me. I tried my hardest not to squirm or redden, and not to hang my head. My mind came back to shocking reality as I heard coach state “Where’s Gary? Got anything to add from Saturday Gary?”
All eyes now openly turned towards me, bodies turned in my direction, as my team mates cleared a space for me to address the group. I stood there in my tight kit, cock bulging in my tiny shorts, and prayed that no-one would ask me about my shaved head, arms or legs. “No coach,” I answered quietly, the shame of my slavery appearing to me to be etched forever on my whole being, my demeanour and appearance.
Normally, I always gave my opinion. Normally, I liked the guys to hear my voice, to know I was their captain and that I knew how they needed to improve. I had never answered as I did now, but I had no recollection of Saturday’s game, no interest in it any more. My experiences since then would not have been believed had I stood up and announced them to the world. I was no longer a captain. It had disappeared with my manhood. I stood before them in the certain knowledge that I was destined for slavery, and I could not maintain the sham of being their leader any longer. I was going through the motions, here because my Master had commanded it. My days of football captain were well and truly over, and I was trying to build a protective shell around myself that would allow me to come to terms with this stark realisation.
I put my head down and closed my eyes momentarily as I heard James state, “He’s more concerned with his new hairstyle coach. And practising his skills in the high street.” As my team mates jeered, and openly laughed now at my buzz cut, I looked up at James and met his eyes. I felt the stinging pain of humiliation as I stood there, knowing that James had only hours earlier seen me sprawled practically naked on the high street. He had also no doubt seen the stripes of the cane across my exposed arse as I ran away. How could I defend myself? How could I make any sort of retort, destined for slavery as I was? The dizzy confirmation struck me that I was now surrounded by free jock boys. And they were all my superiors. I was owned property now, and the difference in my status was to me striking.
I threw myself into training like never before. The banter that I usually led, the friendly jibes that I directed at my team mates, the words of advice and encouragement that I gave ….. these were all gone. Today, I kept my head down and practised hard. On the one hand it felt good to be wearing clothing and in a position where I was not being openly submissive and abused. On the other, I dreaded the knowledge that I would soon be forced to shower in the changing rooms and expose my new body. I had never been one to shy away from stripping in the changing rooms and so my team mates knew my body. How would they react when they saw its new appearance?
We reached the stage of training where the drills were over, and the team sat on the grass for a five minute break prior to the match. I chose to remain standing and slightly apart from the group as discussions began, until I heard the voice of James again. “Gary, what’s that mark on the back of your neck?”
I mumbled an incoherent reply and moved my hand self-consciously to cover the mark of my ownership. But it was too late. James was up and behind me and exclaiming “What the fuck?” before I could formulate a reason to run away. Several of my team mates crowded around and looked at my neck, laughing and shaking their heads. They were clearly amazed at why I would do such a thing, and wanted some explanation.
I struggled to come up with a reason. Why would any sane and athletic guy mutilate his body in that way? I muttered that it was a temporary tattoo, an in-joke between myself and my girlfriend.
“Debbie said that you and Jen were finished. That you had finished with her,” stated Jon.
“Yeah well we are going through a rough patch. But I hope we will sort it out,” I replied, pulling myself away from their gaze and covering my tattoo as best as I could.
The rest of the game went as normal, other than the fact that my own play was useless. My usual energy and enthusiasm was gone, and my shouting for the ball and leadership skills were not present. Coach called me over and asked if everything was ok, clearly aware of the change in my play and general demeanour. “You look like shit Gary. You sure you ok?”
I told him I would be fine and that I was under a lot of pressure at the moment. He shrugged it off and I continued to struggle in the game, my whole body sore from the depilation laser treatment and the new tattoos, not to mention my caned arse and my aching cock, now sporting its own ring.
My heart was pounding in my chest as we returned to the changing rooms. I had already been degraded in so many ways, but the thought of stripping naked in front of my team mates and them seeing me like this was horrific. It was beyond anything I could ever imagine.
We reached the changing room and I sat there, slowly removing my boots and my socks. I was dressed in only my tight top and my snug shorts but the thought of removing either item of clothing seemed incomprehensible. I sat there alone, terrified, as Ben came and sat next to me. He was naked and sat there casually, one jock boy next to another.
“Gary what’s the matter? The guys are worried about you. You look like shit man, and you look like you’ve got all the worries of the world on your shoulder.”
“O nothing Ben. Just going through a difficult patch with Jen, and at work.”
“You sure you are ok? I’m your best mate Gary. I am always here for you.”
“Yeah I know, thanks Ben. You can’t help me. I got to work it out for myself.”
“Come on then, let’s get showered and we will talk about it in the club over a pint,” Ben smiled, picking up his towel and standing in front of me.
I sat and looked at him as he waited for me. I wanted to scream and run. I wanted to disappear into thin air. I wanted to be anywhere but here.
Every fibre of my being on red alert, I pulled my tight top over my body and exposed my new, smooth body to my best mate. I looked at him as he raised his eyebrows in surprise and returned my gaze. His eyes moved down my shaved body, my nipples the only change in an otherwise completely smooth torso.
I stood up and looked at him again. I was about to lose the respect of my closest friend and confidante. I was about to expose myself to the whole team. And with an audible whimper, I pulled down my tight shorts to stand naked before him. Pink triangle exposed. The word OWNED standing out on the shaft of my cock. And not even a towel to hide myself as I prepared to walk across the changing room floor to the showers.
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