Out of the Nest
Those college years had been a whirlwind of joy and depravity. But all things must end. They all graduated with top honors—Riccardo and Francesca moved in together, Riccardo’s natural charisma and dominance making him a rising star in politics. He defended the weak and was a fierce advocate for LGBTQ+ rights, never hiding that one of his two best friends was gay and submissive. If only the public knew how submissive… Francesca had specialized in neurology, her maternal instincts now channeled into caring for her patients with the same warmth she’d once reserved for Tommy.
Marco became a brilliant research biologist, his analytical mind finally satisfied. He lived with Federica, who worked in real estate, their relationship a steady, grounding contrast to the chaos of their past.
Tommy, meanwhile, lived alone. He’d specialized in psychiatry—his empathy, radical humility, and devotion to service making him a standout resident. He’d grown stronger, learning that to live independently, he had to be his own first Master. At home, he still humiliated himself, still regressed when he craved it. It was part of him now. There was something thrilling about being so depraved, so submissive, that he could degrade himself alone—and then turn around and use that same devotion to care for others.
But make no mistake: Tommy hadn’t left his Masters’ lives, nor they his. They talked daily, exchanged orders from afar, and met in person at least once a week to play, to laugh, to be. When they couldn’t make it, Tommy ventured out alone—now confident in what he wanted, now a fixture in the kink scene. He’d return home and regale them with stories of his adventures, his Masters praising his boldness.
Yet something gnawed at him in the quiet hours. Watching his Masters build their lives—their homes, their relationships—left him with a hollow ache. I’ve always been a mascot, he’d think, curled up in bed. Mascots end up alone. The tears came then, hot and shameful. Will I ever know romantic love? I’ve tried every fetish, every perversion, every kind of submission… I’m so used to being owned, I don’t even know if I can be with someone as an equal. Will I die alone, just a used-up slut?
He’d wipe his face, scold himself for being a little bitch, and count his blessings. He had so much—why fixate on what he lacked?
That night, years later, they found themselves once more in the dream realm, kneeling before Belial and Luciferiel. Tommy was naked, vulnerable, tears still glistening on his cheeks.
His Masters exchanged confused glances. Had they done something wrong?
"No, no, Masters, I didn’t mean to bother you," Tommy stammered. "I’m just being over-dramatic. I’m happy for you, really, everything’s fine—" His voice cracked.
Belial cut through the nonsense. "We already know everything you’re thinking, slut. Stop insulting your Masters’ intelligence and tell the truth."
Tommy sighed. He felt ungrateful. He didn’t want to burden them. But Luciferiel’s gaze was gentle, encouraging.
"Fine!" he burst out. "I miss you! We talk all the time, I’ve found my balance somehow, you’re all amazing and caring… but it’s not just that. Your lives are moving forward, your relationships are moving forward… soon you’ll have families, and I’ll be thrilled if you let me be part of your kids’ lives, even if I’m… a depraved slut. But my life isn’t moving forward. My career is, but I don’t know what to do with my personal life. You’ll rightly be busier, have less time for me—and that’s fair. I’ve learned to entertain myself, to be my own Master. But… I’m nostalgic. And sometimes I think I want what you have—a romantic relationship. But I had my last crush at fourteen! And now I’m so submissive I don’t even know if I’m capable of loving like you do. You’re normal—in mind and body! I’m not! I’m a submissive slut, body and soul. It’s what I wanted to become, but… what if I’ve painted myself into a corner? What if I can’t love?"
Silence. The elephant was now very much in the room.
Francesca spoke first. "First: don’t you dare say you’re not normal! You’re a slut, yes—abnormal, no. Well… your ass swallowing objects whole isn’t normal, but aside from that—Tommy, you’re not broken. You’re beautiful. We love you, we always think of you, we miss you too. You’re still our beating heart."
Marco followed. "Come on, little one, don’t sell yourself short! You’re a handsome guy, a legendary slut, kind, intelligent, with a great career ahead of you. If I were gay, I’d date you in a heartbeat! I’m straight and I’m still bound to you—that’s how powerful your slutty magic is. Scientifically, you’ve got great odds of landing a gay guy who’d love to use you."
Tommy laughed despite himself.
Riccardo sealed it. "Marco’s right! Stop whining like a little bitch! The thing is, you only look for Masters because you’re a slut—and you don’t even consider romantic love. So of course you don’t find it! You don’t think you deserve it, so you don’t seek it. But look at us—we’re just as kinky and perverted as you, and we still fell in love. Why couldn’t you? And don’t you dare say you don’t know how to love, or I’ll lose my temper! What’s between the four of us has always been love!"
Francesca’s voice trembled. "Tommy… you always love. When you submit, when you work, when you study—your service in every form is loving. We’ve seen your soul. You are love."
Tommy was crying now—but these were different tears.
Belial chuckled. "Well, the years have passed, but the flair for drama’s still there!"
Luciferiel smiled. "Little one, I’m proud of the journey you’ve made. You’ve been a warrior. But don’t think submission is a prison—I mean, I know you like prisons, but don’t let it limit you. When you’re with your friends, Masters included, without the slavery dynamic, you know how to step out of your role. Your inner puppy isn’t just submission—it’s love, play, wonder. Your body and mind respond to sweetness just as much as sadism."
Belial grinned. "And let’s be real, Tommy—you’re so gay and conditioned now, you could enjoy even the most vanilla man on earth just for his masculine body. And hey, if he likes sweet, vanilla sex? You’ll give it to him, slut that you are, and you’ll love making him happy."
Tommy blinked. It… actually made sense.
Luciferiel added, "The real question is whether the spark ignites. For that, you have to fall for someone’s uniqueness—light and shadow. But you know how to do that, Tommy. You do it with your patients, your loved ones, your Masters. You’ve embraced us wholly."
Riccardo spoke up. "That’s true, Tommy. We broke you and put you back together, but you did the same for us with your vulnerability. You see people. And if you fall for someone who doesn’t appreciate what a perfect slut you are? Their loss."
Francesca nodded. "And you’ll always find humiliation and protection with us."
Marco, ever practical, wrapped it up. "Enough drama! Tomorrow, we’re signing you up for a normal dating site and helping you get out there. After all the public stunts you’ve pulled, you can’t tell me you’re scared of a date!"
Tommy laughed, then lunged at his Masters, hugging them with all his strength.
Belial and Luciferiel exchanged smiles. Then the dream faded.
