The Alex Chronicles

Chapter 70

Morning discussion and discipline

I wake up in the same position I was in when I fell asleep. I can’t believe that we are actually able to sleep cuddled up and not end up moving away from each other during the night and curling up into our own spaces. I love it. So does He, I know, because He always wakes up cheerful when He had me in His arms, holding His possession tenderly, and it gets quite firm when He finally realizes that we are both awake.

He kisses me on the cheek and puts His hands on my shoulders and starts to push me down and I know how He wants to begin the day. I lick my way down to His pubes. It’s a secret little thing I like to do because let’s face it, people sweat when they sleep. So by licking my way down Master’s awesome chest and abs, I also get to lick up something which has come from His body, and that turns me on so much. (So I guess it isn’t all that surprising that it wouldn’t be difficult to train me to drink His piss as well—and that’s as far as anything is going to go!) His brownish blond pubes, which are so beautiful to me, have a musky smell in the morning and I inhale as if it is the freshest, cleanest mountain air. In case you haven’t realized it yet, I am crazy for Mr. Billy Wiggins, always have been, and as He’s gotten older He’s also gotten that much hotter.

By the time I got down there, He is hard as a rock. I start to lick it and He says to me, “No choking,” so I know this is going to be a slow act of love and I have nothing special to prove to Him how much I am willing to submit to Him in all things. Just sweet gentle sucking, in and out without gagging, and my tongue works as hard as it can to send ripples of pleasure through Him.

Something new has happened this morning, however, since Master decided last night that He was not going to lock up my dick after the gathering was over, but is taking a friend’s advice to leave it free and require me never to touch it, so I have to actually work and struggle to over His command about this, and it may result in some pretty hefty punishment every now and then. To tell you the truth, I’d prefer that it was caged. This is too difficult since now I have gotten hard while taking care of my Master’s hard cock and I don’t know what to do with it. Can I rub it against the sheets? I quickly get my answer, because He sees that is happening and cracks me on the back of the head and says, “Stop that.” Torture. I’m almost about to beg Him to lock me up again, that I’m still not strong enough for this. But then I remind myself how pissed off He would be to find out what I was thinking, and I force myself to focus on sucking Master’s cock—the only thing I’m free to do at this very moment. And I lie still on the bed, my cock pressed into the sheet but I’m careful not to move around.

He puts His hand on my head and starts to move along with it. He’s not forcing me down on Him, He’s just traveling along with my head and He knows how much I like it when His hands are there on me. I can’t wait for my hair to grow back in so He can enjoy playing with it the way he’s always done ever since we were little kids. OMG. Holy shit! That’s right: I never realized this before. All the years we were growing up together, Billy used to like to play with my hair. Usually when saying something teasing to me, but still, He liked to do it and I loved that He did it so often. How did we manage to get away with it in school and in front of the other kids? A mystery, to be sure.

He starts breathing more heavily and I know I’m about to have a mouthful of His thick, creamy cum and get to feel it slide down my throat and then lick the tip of His cock, my favorite part, and make sure that anything else that comes out also ends up in my throat. He pulls me up to Himself and forces His tongue into my mouth so that He can taste Himself in my mouth and then begin to wash it all down my throat because it is time for me to drink from His mouth and more thrills go through my body, and I remind myself that He owns me.

We lie together for a little while, face to face, and this is one of the few times during the day when I am not afraid to look into His eyes. Other times during the day I will need His permission because my eyes should always be lowered if possible. At this moment, however, I drink from His eyes and I feel like He is actually fucking my brain with His eyes as they end up piercing right to the heart of my inner slave. For just a few moments, all thought is suspended and I exist only as something that He can look upon any time He wants.

“Bathroom,” He orders, and He helps me up and with a swat on my backside sends me off to get into position for the first piss of the day. The toilet seat is up and I squat over the wider portion of the bowl with my legs spread far apart. He comes and stands over me and begins to let His piss flow down and over my crotch, just as He always did when I was caged. Another adjustment! Still He gets a cup of water and still He pours it over me and then goes to get the water temperature the way He wants it in the shower and steps in. I follow and begin to bathe my Master the way He likes me to, from the top right down to the bottoms of His feet with lots of soap to the crotch and then getting my soapy fingers right up in His crack and right up into His hole, which I have been forbidden to touch with anything except my tongue. It isn’t time for that now. He washes His own hair and then takes some of that shampoo and rubs it into my head adorned with soft recently shaven hairs. Enough. He steps out and it is time for me to quickly complete my own shower, turn off the water and then step outside and use His damp towel for myself. slaves like me rarely ever get their own towels.

We brush our teeth. Master chooses not to shave and I like it when He looks rugged like that, but I am required to shave every morning lest my face begin to look too much like the face of a free man. He finishes and leaves the bathroom. I dry off as best I can and put things in the hamper and try to make the bathroom look neater and then go into the kitchen to find out that Master has already fixed my coffee and is working on His. “Stand here,” He commands, and I drink my coffee standing next to his. Perhaps some people would judge that He is micromanaging me, but this here is not a business; it is the story of a Master and a slave learning how to live around one another in a companionable and respectful way and I happen to really like the fact that Master decides so much of what happens in His save’s life----like how do I drink my coffee on any given morning---standing, kneeling, sitting in the corner, sitting at the table, whatever. I never know and I never have to decide. All I have to do is obey and that makes life so much simpler for me. And if He tells me to drink my coffee standing next to Him, then when I do that, I am serving Him and honoring the fact that He is Master, and I know that my constant choice to obey whatever He decides about anything gives Him as much pleasure as it gives me to serve Him.

Master tells me that He wants pancakes and bacon for breakfast, so I put on my apron (to protect my body) and start the bacon while mixing the batter for the pancakes and I don’t think I have to say any more about this. We have our breakfast of pancakes and bacon with Master in His seat and me on my knees and getting a chance to take bacon and pancakes from His fingers, constantly licking them clean.

Once I’m done eating, He orders me to the floor to kiss and lick His feet, which still smell so wonderful from the soap I used to wash them with.

After breakfast I clean up the kitchen and then go into the living room. Master is sitting on one end of the couch and tells me to lie on the couch with my head on His lap, looking up at Him. It’s time for us to talk about what happened last night. Well, it’s time for ME to talk about last night, because Master asks for my thoughts and feelings about the gathering, and as I try to think of what to say, He begins His gentle onslaught of my nipples which are still quite sore from last night. The slight pain He inflicts one me this morning is just enough to remind me that I must speak the truth to the Mans Who owns me.

“It was strange at first, especially when all the other slaves were totally hooded and masked and we were not allowed to speak to one another so I never really got to meet any of them.”

“AS it should be, alex. slaves are not part of a fraternity like Masters. Each slave is a separate object and all relationships are the Master’s prerogative.”

“That hit home and hit hard, realizing that I would probably never really get to know any of the other slaves present. The hardest thing of all about the evening was the forced silence, never being spoken to except by a direct Master’s order, having no one to speak to.”

“how did it effect you?”

“At first I was resentful and was thinking how I could design the whole thing a lot better. But then I knocked those thoughts away and decided to just submit to what was the practice. “Only a thing, only a thing,” I kept saying to myself.”

“What else?”

“The introductions to the Masters were also unlike anything I have ever experienced before. The eye to eye meeting and then having each of their hard cocks in my mouth---that was awesome for this slut---but so very strange.”

“Eventually I bet they will play a game where slaves will have to guess who’s cock they have in their mouths. That would be fun. And now, after that? The activities?”

“Nothing involved anything new for me, and I felt completely comfortable because You were with me; some actions were more humiliating than others, along with the fact that interested Masters spoke with You about what they wanted from me, and never from me. They asked You, You agreed and took the responsibility of ordering me around Yourself. No communication between any other Master and this slave. One other reason for feeling completely depersonalized. For this I thank You, Master.”

Now He speaks. “It was an interesting evening and many parts of it were enjoyable, but I’m not sure I’d take you to another of those gatherings again. For me, when I bring you anywhere, I want you right there with Me, not roaming around like a slut working the streets, and having to pretend somewhat that the connection we’re working so hard to build between ourselves doesn’t really exist, or is of little bother or value of all, goes against the grain for me and prevents me from feeling completely honest at some crucial moments during the evening. I had no problem deciding which Master’s request would be honored, but I also realize that I had little desire to step in to assist with this important father-son bonding moment in so many of the other relationships. The whippings and the disciplinary actions that took place were completely honest and quite expertly done, especially with the boy who was beaten so severely.”

“I know why that happened, Master, and I also know why He was in so much trouble.”

“And good slaves never gossip, boy.” To drive home the point, Master bends down a bit and cracks me across the ass a couple times. Immediately, my eyes are lowered and my demeanor is like that of a chronic underachiever.

“Like I said, I did not choose to engage with other slaves, although I suspect that this was something that might have to change if we continue to attend. I think most Masters were fine with my presence at the Gathering considering it was the first time for any of us. I’m not terribly interested in trying out any of the other slaves. Compared to them, you have so much more to offer—and you do it on a regular basis. In addition to that, I was not happy with the way all the slaves were showered in cold water and then made to put their clothes on over damp bodies, especially when you were shivering in the car before you fell asleep. So, all told, I don’t intend to bring you back to any such gatherings, although I did get contact information from several of the other Masters, and that might be useful for future couple-to-couple get-togethers. I’ll have to contact The Masters to find out what They enjoy doing when meeting with other couples.”

I open my mouth to receive His spit, and, sure enough, He just dribbles into His slave’s mouth as much as He wishes, meanwhile reaching out to torment my already sore nipples and enjoying a close-up view of my reactions to the pain. Pain given by Master is so much more intense than pain given by anyone else. Just by touching me lightly in areas where there is already pain is enough to drive me down into sub space and right now my urge is to fall of the couch and grovel before Him awaiting His pleasure. As usual, He notices this and lets me go, and in no time my head is on the ground before His feet, my legs are spread and my ass is held high.

Master keeps me in that position, and I hunger to have my mouth on some part of His body, when His phone rings and He picks up. “Oh, Hi, Helen,” He responds cheerfully. “What’s cooking? . . . . oh Your are? Really? Wonderful! Definitely we’ll be there. Text me the address again, please? We’ll both look forward to it. Oh, Fran too? I haven’t seen Her in months. . . . . 1 pm. Of course, the slave will be prepared to be bound. Sure. . . . all the better . . .  Bye, sister!”

“We’ve been invited to Helen’s for lunch today and to meet another male couple they are friends with. I’m delighted because I didn’t have any definite plans for today, and it will be fun to meet yet another male couple. She’s got something up her sleeve, I can tell you that, and whatever it is, I’m sure you will continue to make Me proud, slave.” He checks His watch. “Plenty of time for some fun here. Stand up so I can look you over, slave.”

I stand and He checks out the condition of my body. I wasn’t hit much last night, so I’m in pretty good shape, I think. No pain in any of the places He has touched me. He clips my wrists to the sides of my collar and starts to smack me around, face first, then working His way down my torso, He keeps slapping and even delivers a couple of punches. My body begins to tingle, reacting to the way He is bullying me right now, and I can’t help but remember a time when Bruce and His thugs got me alone in the high school showers and the four of them slapped the daylights out of me, neck to knees, and Bruce held my balls tightly in His hand while the others took turns punching me there and I doubled over so they kept hitting my ass until we heard coach yelling in to us to get a move on. I hated it at the time, but the memory of it has come up quite often when I used to masturbate. No more, though, no more. I have my own private Bully here now, and He is the fucking best of all, and keeps hitting me until there are tears in my eyes and I’m whimpering as He enjoys the music from my mouth as He continues to torment my body.

Then He orders me to kneel and open my mouth, and He shoves His cock all the way down my throat so He can hear me gag and choke, and He roughly fucks my mouth and reminds me that He owns my throat and He is collecting my “rent” for taking up room in His home. From time to time He takes His cock out of my mouth and slaps my face. He is getting more and more into slapping me after some of the things He saw at the gathering. “finish Me off!” He commands, and I go back down on His cock and fuck my mouth on it hard and quick until at last I hear His battle cry of victory and drink down what He spills into my mouth and then uses me as His urinal and I swallow His piss with is mixed a bit with leftover semen, and part of me still gets upset that He has reduced me to this, while the inner part of me urges me on to swallow without giving any thought to what it is I am swallowing.

He finishes, and I obediently suck any remaining fluid from His dick. He withdraws and orders me to stand and look into His eyes. “You must never give any thought to what it is I am requiring you to take into your mouth and swallow. It is simply fluid from your Master’s body, and in a way, special medicine for you to keep you humiliated and strong in your ability to accept anything I decide to give to you with gratitude.”

“All from You, Master. All is food and drink for Your slave.”

“that’s right, brat. Never forget it.” And with that, he starts to slap my hard dick from all directions and it just grows harder. “I don’t like seeing you hard. I don’t want you to ever be hard unless I have chosen to make you that way. This idea of not caging you is not My style. Go into the kitchen, quickly, and bring Me several ice cubs in a plastic sandwich bag.”

I run to fetch what He has demanded, and when I return to the living room, He is coming back with the cock cage in His hand. I stand before Him and hand Him the bag of ice and He applies it to my hard cock. I try to pull back and He says “That just earned you two lashes with the strap. Want to try for more?”

I thrust out the cock (not my cock, but His), and flinch when He applies the ice but I’m able to control myself and remain still as the ice has its effect and my cock shrinks back to a nearly shrunken state. He quickly puts the cage over it and manages to lock me in once again, and I am so relieved that He has decided to keep me caged. I really don’t feel like I’m worthy to be showing a hard cock to Him for any reason at all. I prefer to be emasculated this way, humbled and focused on nothing other than the awesome dick between His legs, the dick I am committed to satisfying under any conditions whatsoever for all of my life. I risk speaking just to say, “Thank You, Master,” and He chuckles. “You prefer it this way yourself, don’t you, faggot?”

“Yes, Master. It is the only way a faggot like me can serve You with everything within me.”

“Glad you know that, brat. Now go into the bedroom and get Me the strap.”

Only two lashes. I can do this. I fetch the strap and return to Him. I kneel and kiss the strap and hand it to Him. He makes me lie on the couch on my back and He unclips my hands and holds both of them high above me and He sends the strap crashing down right over my nipples. I scream and sob out, ‘I’m sorry, Master,” and He holds my hands tightly so I cannot squirm away in an attempt to shake off the agonizing pain.

“Never, ever, pull back from your Master,” He warns in a threatening voice. Then he clips my wrists back to my collar and throws me off the couch and commands, “home!’ and I drip tears onto His feet and begin to lick them off Him. I have learned my lesson, I hope.

He puts on the television for a while and keeps me slobbering over His feet for a good long time. Finally He commands, “Black jock. Young schoolboy short pants with a Saint Arsdale High  t-shirt with a red SAH cap on backwards. And, of course, keep the collar on.” White sneakers with no socks.“   Then meet Me in the back by the car and stand there waiting. He unclips my wrists so I can get dressed quickly, and soon I am standing at the door of the car, waiting for Him to come outside. When He gets there, He is holding the riding crop, so I know there are going to be fun and games at this luncheon.