Chapter One
The Beginning

Hi. My name is Paul, and I'm 13 years old. Here is the pledge I make to my Master each morning:

My name is Paul, and I am a slave. I belong to you, Master Mitch, and you are everything to me. I am your property, your toy, your treasured possession. I swear to be an obedient slut, and I pledge to obey all of your commands without hesitation, to serve your every need, to worship you. I am here to be used by you, Master, and I submit to you completely. Do you want to fuck me?

I have it memorized perfectly, of course. I never make mistakes, or not anymore, not for a long time. A few times, Master Mitch used to slap me awake at like 3am and say "pledge!" and even just waking up I could say it perfectly, so I'm really good at it. On most days, though, I just have to kneel before him, naked except for cuffs on my wrists and ankles, and of course my collar, and I guess my cock cage, and then say it all. When I kneel, my forehead is on the ground, and I don't look up. Then I just wait for him to answer.

Like I said, I'm only 13 years old, so I guess that's weird.

This morning, Master Mitch said yes. He had me get on all fours, took out the plug I'd had in all night, put some greasy lube on my ass, and shoved his dick in.

Sorry, let me say it the way I should. He shoved his big 7.5" dick into my tiny 13-year-old ass. I cried out. I keep trying not to yell or cry, but it's big, and he kind of likes to go in fast.

And then I moaned. My little dick had already been kinda hard, but now it started stretching, at least as much as it could in its cage. I felt my skin prickle with sweat, and I gasped while he shoved into me, pushing my body forward. "Uhhhhhh," I said, as he pulled out and shoved in again, fucking his little slave over and over. I guess you want to know, so yes, he came in me, and then he plugged me right back up. When that happens, it means I'm going to store his cum for the day.

He didn't let me cum, either. He doesn't, usually, and I really wish he did, but Master knows best. He never even took my cage off this morning, so I just felt my dick push and strain and… yeah. Honestly it really sucks to be 13 and caged. I'm so horny, like all the time. But when he was done and I was plugged again, I just knelt down like I was supposed to. "Thank you, Master," I said, looking down at the floor.

Maybe he might let me cum, I thought. But he didn't, of course. He saves that for special occasions.

So… yeah, that's me, I guess. I'm Paul, and I'm 13. My Master kidnapped me a year ago and made me his slave, and now he's commanded me to write down the story of how he did it.

I hope you like it. I really really hope you like it, because he says that if not enough people like it, I'm going to get punished. That's why I talked about how big my Master's dick is up there, and how small I am, so you'd like it.

But my Master is a good Master. He knows I was always good at writing, and I haven't had math or history or other classes like that for the past year, but he kept me learning writing. And, I guess, reading stories I was probably too young for. Now I guess I know why.

I really hope you like it.

* * *

I guess I should tell you a bit about me.

I wasn't really the kind of kid who had lots of friends. I mean, I guess I wanted them, but I started ballet when I was four years old and that just sucks for making friends. Also I read all the time. Like, all the time. Back when I wasn't a slave, everyone else hung out and texted and stuff, but I liked to read books. I was a really good reader, too. Just before my Master kidnapped me, I was reading Team of Rivals by Doris Kearns Goodwin, which is about Abraham Lincoln and the Civil War. I mean, I also read fun stuff like Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter. I wasn't totally weird.

I also liked writing. I was great at English and History and stuff like that. After he kidnapped me and finished my basic training, my Master started me in a writing class because he liked how I wrote. I guess it was also so I could write this journal. I'm really glad he didn't put me in a math class, though. I would've done really bad and spent like all the time hung up and with my balls getting shocked and that would really have sucked. Having your balls shocked hurts a lot, like a lot. If you haven't had it done to you, don't. But if you have a Master and he wants it, then you should do what he says, I guess, even if it hurts.

Anyway, yeah, I guess I was a nerd, and no one liked me. I got picked on a lot, because of ballet, and because of reading all the time, even in class. But I liked dancing a lot, and I liked reading, so I got to do things I wanted to do. I just ignored everyone else.

I guess since I had no friends, it was easier for Master to take me. Well, that and the video games.

I played online, all kinds of games, and I didn't have friends to play with. Also, it's not like my parents knew what I was doing. One day, I just started talking with a teammate. Mitty1128. He was really nice, and he'd read a lot of the same books as me, and he cared about my life and what I did. He treated me like an adult, and we talked about history and politics and all kinds of stuff. He was really cool, and he cared about me.

I gave him my e-mail. Then my phone number. Now I had someone to text, too.

We talked all the time. He sent me memes, links to cool sites, videos, games. He even would joke with me, rickroll me and stuff. He bought me a couple of games on Steam. It was the coolest thing.

He asked what I looked like, I showed him. I showed him my room, told him about my dancing, sent him a photo of my bookcase. All normal stuff, or so I thought. Even when it got weird, I never really saw it.

Mitty1128: Hey kiddo, how's it going? [10:32pm]

PJ2112: Doing good, hbu? [10:32pm]

Mitty1128: I'm good. Kinda bored. [10:32pm]

PJ2112: Want to play something? [10:33pm]

Mitty1128: Isn't it late? [10:33pm]

PJ2112: It's ok, I can stay up [10:33pm]

Mitty1128: I shouldn't keep you up. Maybe send me another selfie? [10:34pm]

PJ2112: I sent it to you last night [10:34pm]

Mitty1128: I just want a good contact photo and that one was dark. [10:34pm]

PJ2112: Yeah ok, I'll put on a shirt [10:34pm]

Mitty1128: What's the big deal? We're both guys. [10:34pm]

PJ2112: Gimme a minute [10:35pm]

Mitty1128: You don't need to be ashamed of your body. You're a dancer! [10:35pm]

PJ2112: I'm not ashamed [10:35pm]

Mitty1128: So? [10:35pm]

PJ2112: I'm not [10:35pm]

Mitty1128: Yeah, ok. [10:35pm]

PJ2112: Here [10:38pm]

Mitty1128: That's cute! Your hair is all mussed up! [10:39pm]

PJ2112: Don't make fun of me. [10:39pm]

Mitty1128: Dude, you look great! Seriously, thanks for the selfie. [10:39pm]

PJ2112: Thanks [10:40pm]

So, like, I thanked him after I sent him a shirtless pic, and I didn't even think that night was weird or anything. There was other stuff, like he talked about how he liked brainy kids, and I just thought, "oh, cool, that explains why he likes me!" He said he hoped one day he'd "have a kid like me…" I thought he meant he wanted a son. Most days, though, we just talked about everything, and sometimes he said stuff like that, and I didn't think about it, not really. I was just kind of… falling further under his control. Doing what he told me to do, thinking like he wanted me to think.

And there was more, too, that I didn't know about. One of the sites he sent me a link to was loaded with spyware and stuff, and I never knew it. It basically gave him total control of my computer, and another site he sent me to took control of my phone. Not just was he talking to me all the time, and I told him all this stuff, but now he watched me each day through my webcam and I never knew it. He saw what I did in my room, and he could look at me while I was sleeping, or while I was changing, or whenever he wanted. Forget that shirtless pic, he saw everything.

Later, he showed me some of those videos like me dancing naked to music or just walking around. He literally saw everything in my life.

After he kidnapped me, Master Mitch told me about all this. How much he liked me. How I was slender, and beautiful, and sexy. How the shirtless pic convinced him to send me the spyware, and what he saw on the spyware convinced him to take me as his slave. I was tall, with good posture and even some boyish muscles from ballet. I had long arms and long legs, thick eyebrows, and a big head of light brown, or maybe dirty blond hair.

"I also liked your hair," he said as I was laying naked up against him one time, and he ran his hand through that hair. "It hangs out over your forehead, it's cute."

And, of course, my body was hairless. Hairless everywhere, as Master Mitch already knew, because he watched me naked every night. "You were fucking hot, my pet," he told me one night a couple months ago. He loves to talk about how he watched me, and how he took me. "God, I jerked off to you every night when you were going to bed. I just wanted to grab you and just run my hands all over your smooth little belly and then fuck you silly." I'd just brought him a beer, and he had me lie down and he started caressing my belly as he started to sip his drink. "And," he kept going as his hand slid up and down along my skin, "I did." I had goosebumps all over.

Some nights, we talk about what it was like when I was free. A lot of times it's after I've sucked him off, and he lays back in bed and has me climb up next to him. He holds me in his arms and tells me what a great boy I am. "So shy, doing your ballet, no friends," he says. "And whatever I said, you'd do it." He'd pause sometimes, maybe run his fingers along my face. He likes to just have a fingertip on my nose and play with it a little bit, or caress my cheeks. "I always thought you'd be a nice submissive little slut," he says, "and look at you, look how much you like it."

"Yes, Master," I always reply, as his fingers move down to my chest and start toying with my nipples, and my little boy-dick strains against its cage. Maybe if I answer right, he'll let it out for a bit. I really am a slut, I want it so bad.

"Still," he'll say as he caresses me, "I guess we had to test it to know for sure."

What he's talking about is that spyware he installed. It was Sunday afternoon, and I was up in my room just browsing Wikipedia. My webcam was on, of course, just like usual, but I didn't know about that. Then all of a sudden my computer stopped responding and started showing me porn.

I'd never watched porn before. I know, I was 12, but I wasn't that kind of kid! It wasn't right, and my parents wouldn't have approved. And now it was there and full screen and I couldn't stop it!

I tried to close it, I did, but there was no X button. It opened on this tiny guy who had a collar and leash on and with his hands cuffed behind his back. I guess the guy was a twink, right, hairless? The leash was being held by a big guy standing over him, and the smaller guy was panting and sweaty and looking up nervously.

I was freaking out. I felt myself sweating and panting, just like the guy in the video. I must've gotten hard but I didn't notice since I was so scared, I didn't understand what I was seeing. I guess I should've gotten my parents, but I couldn't tell them I was watching porn! They'd never believe me that it wasn't my fault.

The big guy pulled hard on the leash, forcing the little guy to lean forward, and then he reached down and slapped him. I yelped out loud and felt my breath catch in my throat. I was thinking all kinds of things I didn't understand. The little guy, still kneeling, just looked up at the big guy with a red cheek, and then the big guy slapped him again. The little guy looked down and said, "I'm sorry, Master."

"Open," instructed his Master, and the little guy opened his mouth, and then started to suck on his Master's dick.

It went on for like 20 minutes. I was staring wide-eyed, sweaty, my mouth just open as I took it in. (Master Mitch showed me the video. He said he jerked off a lot to watching me see sex for the first time.) Sometime around then, I noticed that my dick was really hard, and I got even more scared, but I couldn't stop watching. It felt good to watch.

And then it stopped. My computer just went to a black screen. "What?" I cried, forgetting the computer had been taken over in the first place. A message came up: YOU WANT TO SEE MORE, DON'T YOU?

I knew I should've clicked NO. I knew it.

But I clicked YES.

DO YOU WANT TO BE THE SMALL GUY OR THE BIG GUY? And in my mind, I'd been picturing myself… I'd been picturing myself sucking on that big dick, and the video had stopped just after the small guy had been bent over on the bed and the big guy had put his dick up to his ass, and… I clicked SMALL GUY. In that moment, I just wanted to see more.

I didn't know how my life would change with that single click. That was when Master Mitch knew for sure I'd be a good slave for him, and I don't think there was any way I could stop it after that even if I'd known what he had in mind.

I couldn't turn away as I watched the big guy's dick slide in, and he started to fuck his little slave. I was sweating and distracted when it was done, and I couldn't fall asleep for hours. I didn't even know how to jerk off back then.

* * *

By now, Master Mitch also had full access to my phone. He saw my whole day. He used the GPS to know where I was, who I texted, what websites I visited. When I snuck it out in school. Everything.

When I started searching online about sex after that video, he knew it.

One day, he told me he'd be visiting near where I lived, and asked if he could see me. I rehearsed alone in the studio every day from 2:30pm–4:00pm, and I invited him to come. I didn't even think it was weird that a random 25-year-old internet stranger would come watch me, I was just so excited to meet him. He brought me ice cream, and then for an hour he watched me in my thin, skintight black leotard as I danced, rehearsing moves over and over again, bending my lithe body to and fro.

"You're really good at this!" he said.

I blushed. My instructor told me I was good at it too, but it wasn't the same as hearing it from a friend. "Thanks," I said.

"I was never good at dancing."

"It just takes practice," I replied.

"Nah," he said, "it's more than that. Can I see that last dance again?"

And I danced for him. Of course he picked one where I kicked my legs up, giving him nice views of my privates underneath my leotard. I had no idea.

I liked showing off, I just didn't realize everything I was showing off. I didn't know my Master's love yet, but it wouldn't be long now.

* * *

That night, my computer showed me some more porn, the same two guys. This time the smaller guy was tied up, spread-eagled. I just let it happen this time, even as I felt the strange feelings come over me, the energy and heat and need that I couldn't understand. Master Mitch texted me while I was watching and I didn't think anything special of it. I replied, but I didn't mention the porn. I had no idea he was watching me from a hotel room just a few miles away, jerking off to me staring wide-eyed at the screen.

A couple days later I was walking from school to the studio for rehearsal when he texted me, saying he was heading out of town soon and asking if I wanted to get together. I was just a few blocks away from him, so I said sure. I thought it was a lucky coincidence, but of course he'd set it all up. He knew right where to be since he was watching me on GPS.

It was a warm spring day. I was dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, and I had my backpack slung over my shoulder. We met, chatted a bit. He was leaning up against his car; we were outside an empty lot, so there wasn't anyone or anything nearby. He offered me a soda water flavored with black cherry, which was my favorite. Of course he knew that. It was ice cold, too.

"Are you going to dance?" he asked, as I took the first sip of the drink.

"Yeah!" I said. "We've got auditions for Pinocchio and I think I can get it. That show's gonna be awesome."

"I bet you'd be amazing in it," he replied. I took another drink.

"There are really cool costumes," I said, "and I get to work with a bunch of other dancers. It'd be a big role." I could feel myself starting to get a bit tired, and I didn't know why.

He held out a hand, placing it on my shoulder. It felt tingly.

"I'd love to see you in that," he said.

"You… should come," I said. My brain felt slow. "If you… can."

"I'd love to," he replied.

"I'm really tired," I said. My eyelids were drooping. I felt a second hand on my shoulders, then he reached down and pushed the drink up to my lips.

"Drink some more," he said. "Maybe the sugar will wake you up."

I did, and then I collapsed in his arms.

* * *

I came to slowly. I was tied up in the trunk of a car. Not tied up, really, but handcuffed. My wrists were cuffed together behind my back, and my ankles were cuffed together, and those cuffs were cuffed together, forcing my body to bend backwards, which I thought was really painful but wasn't that bad compared to what would happen later if I'm being honest. There was also a big ball gag in my mouth, not that I knew what that was just yet. It just stretched my jaw and tasted of rubber, and I kept running my tongue across it, trying to push it out, or feeling the little seam in the ball.

We drove for hours. Eventually, we stopped at some little motel somewhere. The kind where you just drive up to your door, there's no hallway or anything on the inside. So he checked in with me tied up there in the trunk, drove the car up to his room, and backed into the spot. He opened the door, came back and opened the trunk, and picked me up. There were just three feet between the car and the door. Of course no one saw the bound up little boy Master Mitch carried into his room. I barely made out that it was nighttime. It must've been hours and hours.

The feeling of being carried by someone like that was degrading and scary and weird, and it hurt. I was so scared by then. I was shaking. I'd barely managed not to pee my pants. I didn't know where I was, or why, or what had happened… I'd even managed to fall asleep a bit in the car so I didn't know how long it'd been. And now I'd felt myself being lifted up and carried into this motel room with someone I thought was my friend.

But he wasn't my friend.

He was my Master.

He laid me belly-down on the bed and then sat down next to me. He reached out, putting a hand on my back, which was still curved back from my wrists and ankles being cuffed together behind me. I shivered, even though his hand was warm. Who was this man?

He started running his hand in small circles along my back. "Oh, Paul," he said. "I'm so pleased to have you here."

I shifted uncomfortably under his hand, but I couldn't exactly move away. Tears started to come to my eyes, and I blushed in embarrassment that I was starting to cry.

"You're mine now," he said, his hand resting on my back. "You're going to be my little toy, and you're going to like it." Then he reached over and let his fingers graze against my cheek, but I jerked my head away.

Master Mitch's reaction was so swift, I barely processed it. In an instant, he'd grabbed my hair in his left hand and used it to pull my head back hard, forcing my chin up off the bed. "No," he said, his voice stern and hard. "You never pull away from your Master." And then his arm swung out, delivering a sharp slap. I yelped, but it was muffled by the gag; more tears ran down my cheeks. Then he reached back and slapped me again. My head swung to the side, but his hand was holding my hair, and so it just pulled on my hair, hurting more.

I was bawling now, as best as I could with that gag in. My throat felt constricted and in pain from the crying, and then the third hard slap rang down on my face. Everything felt fuzzy. I couldn't see clearly through the tears and my ears were ringing. Then he slapped me a fourth time, and again my head swung to the side, pulling again on my hair. I bawled uselessly into the gag. Everything was hurting. Another slap came down, my head flying in the other direction, and it felt like fire on my cheek. I think his finger got into my eye a little bit and that hurt too. Then another slap, hitting the other cheek. My neck hurt from being held up like this, it felt like my hair was getting pulled out, and all my muscles hurt from being cuffed like this.

Finally he let go of my hair, and my head crashed down into the mattress. I just cried into it for a moment, and Master Mitch let me. I felt the bed move as he shifted to sit on it again. His finger touched my wet cheek again, and I didn't move away this time. I just sobbed into the bed.

"Listen to me, Paul," he said, his voice softer. "Are you listening?" I was too scared to reply, so Master Mitch got stern again. "Are you listening?" he said, stopping after each word.

I nodded, softly, into the bed. I felt like the whole world was crashing around me. Everything was gone, but I was listening.

"Look at me. I want you to listen carefully."

I turned my head. Tears clouded my vision, and I could feel my whole body heaving with sobs and stress. My Master's fingers were still on my cheek, softly caressing it, and I moaned softly.

"You're mine, now. No one is ever going to find you. We're hundreds of miles away from your home. Everything about us is erased off your cell phone and computer, and I put your phone on a truck driving in the opposite direction, so they're going to track it and end up in completely the wrong place. You were going to rehearse alone for an hour and a half, and they probably wouldn't call home if you missed group rehearsal after that, so your parents didn't know anything was wrong until dinner time. When the police finally do anything, there's going to be no trace."

I felt myself crying more and more as he spoke. I was such a baby back then! He hadn't done anything to me yet, not really! But I guess I just felt completely hopeless. I was tied up, gagged, slapped, and terrified. I wanted to believe I'd be found, but it sounded like he'd planned everything. I didn't even know if I'd be alive in the morning… what had happened to me?!?

"You're my pet," Master Mitch continued in his deep, calm voice, as if everything was normal. I still couldn't move, and I felt my muscles tense at the uncomfortable position I was bound in. "My toy." He paused a moment. "My slave… you're going to be a beautiful slave." He went quiet for a moment while he absently rubbed my cheek. His finger would go down across my bare skin, then up over the strap that kept my gag in place, then along my skin again, then it turned around and went back up.

"It's so strange," he said as he continued to stroke my cheek, "I've been waiting so long to have you here, and now I don't really want to get started. You're my perfect boy. I just want to hold this moment." I lay there, tied up and helpless, but he just sighed and ran his hand through my hair. I shivered.

He seemed to think for a moment. "You won't like it at first," he said, "but you'll learn, and you'll see that this is where you belong. This is what you are, Paul." I wasn't really listening. "You're born to serve me. You want to be the small guy."

Some things started to click into place when he used those words, and I started to realize just how I'd been manipulated. I started to cry again. I don't cry so much any more, just when he really hurts me, but back then I cried a lot.

Master Mitch stood up. He reached out, grabbing my hair, forcing my face up again. I looked at him through my tears. He was so big compared to me. "Listen to me, slave," he said. "You will do as I say. If you don't, you will be punished. Do you understand?"

I was just crying. My hair hurt! "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" he had to repeat louder. I just cried harder.

So he let go of my hair and pushed me. I fell onto my side on the bed, and then he punched me in the stomach. That was all he did, and I guess you must think he was going pretty easy on me if that's all a Master did for disobeying his order, but I guess he was going easy on me since I was a new slave and I didn't know what to do yet. It really hurt, though, because my belly was stretched tight because I was stretched out by the cuffs pulling my arms and legs behind my back, so I couldn't tense up or anything.

I pulled frantically for breath in my nose as his fist sunk into me. I yelled into my gag and more tears streamed down my face. I've seen pictures of what I look like now after Master punishes me; my face gets really puffy and red, and snot and tears come out and cover my face and I look so pathetic. I think I must have looked like that.

"When you disobey," he said sternly as I cried, "I will punish you, and you will learn to obey. Now, I will repeat my question. Do you understand that disobedience leads to punishment, slave?"

Everything hurt and I felt totally hopeless. I knew I had to do something but I was so confused I didn't know what. Finally, I nodded.

"Better," he said.

Then he pointed to my gag. "I'm going to take this off, and you will stay quiet, slave. Do you understand?"

I knew what I had to do, but I needed to work myself up to it. It took a moment, but I looked up at him and saw his serious face, and I nodded.

He reached down and ran his hand through my hair. "There we go," he said. It was almost a loving touch and I kind-of wanted it but I also didn't. I just sat there, tied up, and then I felt his big man's hands brush across my cheeks as he undid the buckle and removed the gag.

I gasped for breath and the release was amazing. But I was so stupid then, I didn't listen to his command at all. "PLEASE!" I wailed with my newly-freed mouth. My voice was hoarse, worn out from sobbing and crying and from not even opening my mouth for like ten hours, I couldn't even yell very loud. "LET ME GO HOME! PLEASE!"

Master was ready for it. He grabbed my hair again and slapped me across the face. Hard. It pushed my head into the bed. Then again, another slap as I felt my neck twist. And a third slap. My cheeks burned. He just stared at me, and I looked back, scared and wide-eyed.

He hadn't really done anything to me yet, not anything serious, and I was so scared. I was such a baby.

"That was very bad, slave. Are you going to obey me now?"

I gulped. I wanted to be a hero but I didn't feel like it. I just nodded.

"Answer out loud."

"Yeah… yes…"

He nodded. It was one of the last times in my life I'd answer a question like that without using the word "Master," but he hadn't explained that part yet.

"Much better," he said. "Now, are you hungry?"

"I…" My voice was still hoarse. "I need to go to the bathroom really bad!" I said, starting to cry again.

"Yeah, of course," said Master Mitch. He suddenly sounded more… human? "Should've thought of that. I'm lucky you're still dry." With a smile, he added, "especially after that black cherry drink." I still couldn't move, but I turned my head to watch him go to his suitcase and bring out a collar and leash.

My first-ever collar.

He brought it up in front of my lips. "Kiss it," he said.

"Huh?"

"This collar symbolizes my ownership of you. You are mine. By kissing it, you welcome that ownership. Now kiss it."

I looked up at him. It was so weird to me back then. Now, I still remember when he got me a new collar when I finished training, and another one for my thirteenth birthday, and both times I knelt and I kissed them and then I smiled up at him and said "thank you, Master," and I waited while he attached it to my neck. That was totally normal.

But back then, I didn't understand. It was this weird black collar, and I wondered why it had so many loops on it where you could attach things. But I wasn't dumb, either. I've always been a smart kid. I knew that if I didn't obey, he'd hurt me again, maybe worse. So I puckered up my lips and leaned forward and closed my eyes and I kissed my new collar.

After the kiss, Master Mitch attached it to my neck with a little lock, making sure I couldn't remove it. I could feel his strong hands, his fingertips a little bit cold on my neck as they fiddled with it to put it on. Then he put on the leash, and finally he removed the cuffs. Back then, you see, I'd never been tied up for so long. I mean, I'd never been tied up at all. Finally I could stretch out, move my arms, move my legs. I was a dancer, and muscles even I didn't know I had were hurting.

I put out my arms and legs right away, like a starfish, but it hurt! So after that I moved slowly, trying not to let it hurt too much from the sore muscles.

"Come," he said, after watching me stretch.

I stood up. It still hurt to move, and I was really wobbly, but it felt wonderful. He led me by the leash to the bathroom as I limped behind him, and he stood me in front of the toilet.

"You're gonna stand there? While I…" My voice trailed off in embarrassment. I didn't want him to see me peeing!

"Drop your pants," he said.

"I could just… use the fly…"

"DROP YOUR PANTS!" He was much louder, and he raised his hand to slap me again. I grabbed for my belt, fumbling, and I did it. I dropped my pants, and my undies. They were white briefs. (I figured you'd want to know…) I felt so exposed, my hairless little dick hanging out. I think it was underdeveloped, since I'd seen other kids at gym class with hair already. Then again, Master Mitch watched everything before he took me, so I think that might be another reason he picked me.

Yeah, and I guess you'd want to know about my legs, too. (You're going to tell Master Mitch you liked the story, right?) They were long, and kind-of muscled, but not like gymnast muscled or anything. They were dancer sleek. Good for tights. Long, and firm, and also smooth and hairless, but firm from regular use. Although right then, I think my knees were shaking.

"You're watching me…" I mumbled miserably.

"Piss," said Master Mitch. He stood there holding my leash while I stood there mostly naked. I don't think I could have peed normally, but it'd been so long, it all just started rushing out, a long, steady stream into the toilet. I blushed bright red as I heard it splash into the toilet, but I couldn't help it, and I let a big breath out as the pressure in my little bladder was finally released.

When I was done, I tapped my little dick to get the last drops of pee off, not realizing how much my new Master was probably enjoying the view, and then I leaned down to pull my pants up. "No," he said. "Step out of them."

"But…"

"NOW," he said.

I stepped out of them. I told you I was shy, right? I guess I was meek too. I just did what he told me. But, like, I was wearing a collar and leash too, so wouldn't anyone?

"Now take off your shirt."

I stared up at him, biting my lip.

"NOW," he insisted again.

That word, said with such force… it just worked. I don't know why I was even reluctant. The shirt wasn't the really embarrassing part, right? Anyway, I took it off. We had to pull it up the length of the leash. And now I just had socks and shoes on.

"And those," he said, pointing to my last clothing.

It felt significant to take off my last clothes, but I leaned down to remove them. I was going to be totally naked. I didn't realize he could see my sleek body as I reached down, my long firm legs, my ass stretch behind me, the curl of my skin. Bending down like that, I untied my shoelaces, then pulled off my shoes. Then my socks. They dropped down next to me. That was it.

"Come," he said, walking away with the leash. I padded after him, naked in this dingy motel room, head turned up to see this strange and scary man. I felt my bare feet go from bathroom tile to threadbare carpet.

Master Mitch stood me in front of him. He reached out, ran his fingers over a nipple, caressing it for a moment, not speaking while I stood there in my collar and leash and shivered. Finally, he spoke.

"Listen closely, Paul." It was the first time he'd used my name since… since he stopped being my friend. "Are you listening?"

I nodded. Maybe this had some explanation, maybe it was ok, it was some weird adventure…

"You are my slave," he said. "I am your Master now. You will call me Master or Master Mitch. Do you understand?"

I stared at him.

He slapped me, hard. I was barely able to stand. I felt myself crying again. Tears rolled down my cheeks and then I felt them on my bare chest.

"I asked you a question," he said sternly. "Do you understand?"

"K-kind of…"

"Kind of is good enough for now," he said gruffly. "But you must call me Master whenever you speak to me."

"O-ok, M-Master," I managed to burst out. More tears rolled down my face.

"Kneel," he commanded me.

I was so scared. My lip was trembling. I knelt, down on my knees.

"Lower," he said.

I lowered my torso down.

"Lower," he said again.

I bent forward, my head going towards the ground.

My Master reached a foot up and placed it on my back, forcing me down towards the ground. "You are a slave," he said.

Remember how I told you at the start how I kneel to him, with my forehead down on the ground? Well, I never thought about it before, but I guess this was the first time I showed him a slave's respect. There in that rundown hotel room. Now, I guess I probably wasn't the first person used for sex in that room, but maybe I was the first boy.

"This is your natural position," he was saying. "Like the collar, it shows that I own you. That you are my special property now."

He held his foot hard on my back. I couldn't see him, not with my forehead pressed into that smelly carpet, but I could feel him. It felt like I was supposed to say something.

"O-ok," I said. The foot pressed down harder. I added, "Master."

"The response," said the tall, large man who towered over me, "is `yes, Master.'"

He paused again, his foot pressing into my back. "Y-yes, Master," I squeaked out.

"This is what you are, Paul," my Master said. "You're born to serve me." He paused a moment. "You want to be the small guy."

There it was again.

"Do you understand, slave?" he said as I tried to process my new information.

And what was I going to say, with his foot on my head, my forehead pressed into the ground? What could I say?

"Yes, Master."

"When you kneel, your forehead is on the ground. And you stay like that until I give you permission to stand."

His tone indicated he wanted a response. "Yes, master," I said. There was a rhythm to it, a pattern, and I was getting used to it. My tears started to dry up. The last few rolled into that thin carpet.

"Are you hungry, slave?"

Of course I replied. "Yes, master."

* * *

He left me kneeling like that, attaching the leash to a bedpost, while I heard him move around the room. I heard a bag opening up, plastic crinkling. But I stayed down, just like I'd been told. Finally he released the leash, sat down and told me to get up and sit next to him, and I did, my bare skin up against his clothed body as he wrapped his hand around and felt me.

"You're a beautiful boy," he said, and he ran his hand through my hair, holding me close. "We're going to have lots of fun together." I just kind-of bit my lip and stayed quiet.

We ate the packaged food he'd brought, and we drank water and he even had some black cherry fizzy water. I didn't want to drink it, but he promised me it was fine, and it was. My Master is a very kind Master to have brought that for me, even if I didn't know it at the time.

He turned to me when I finished eating, his mouth bare inches from my ear. "You should thank your Master for the food."

"Thank you," I said. He stared at me. "Um, Master." He nodded.

I was still naked except for my collar and leash, and I was wondering when I would be allowed to dress. The answer, of course, was not for two whole days, and even then I wouldn't dress very much. Instead, Master Mitch stood up and started to remove his clothes. I stared, not having seen a man do that, not really.

He was large, and had hair over his body in all kinds of places, and his dick was big and thick. I knew I shouldn't stare at it, and I tried not to, but I'd just seen that porn, and… I forced myself to turn away, blushing.

Grabbing the end of my leash, he climbed into the bed and spread his legs. He pointed between them. "Come," he said.

The place he wanted me to go took me frighteningly close to his big dick. From seeing that porn… I thought I knew what he wanted. I really, really didn't want to give it to him, but especially naked, he was so scary, and his cock was getting bigger…

"Lick it," he said, pointing to his dick. I just stared. "NOW," he insisted. I'd learn later that he was just being nice; if I delayed like that today, I'd get flogged for sure, or worse.

His insistence was enough. I was so scared, I just wanted this to be over. More tears came to my eyes as I tentatively reached out my tongue and gave it a little lick… there was something gooey at the tip and it caught on my tongue, and I tried to reach up to remove it with my hand…

"No," he said. "Swallow it."

I really, really didn't want to do that. I was shaking. More tears were running down my cheeks. I brought my tongue into my mouth and felt a feeling like throwing up. But I swallowed.

"Lick," he said, pointing again. "More." I felt used; I felt like an object; I felt like a toy. My parents let me walk on my own from school to the dance studio, and they let me rehearse on my own, and let me read all the books I wanted. I'd been so grown up. And now I was naked, with a collar and leash, and couldn't go anywhere. I was just a… a slave.

And I leaned down and gave his pulsing dick another lick, swallowing the bit of stuff that I didn't know yet was precum.

"More," he said, "the whole thing from base to tip."

I was only twelve years old! But I held my breath, and I leaned down, and I stuck out my tongue, and I licked from base to tip.

"Now everything. Make the whole thing wet with your spit."

My stomach turned, and I started to lick. I couldn't hold my breath anymore, and I could smell everything. Hours and hours of sitting in the car driving, waiting outside, spending the morning preparing… all of that was condensed into a thick musk that I couldn't help smelling. I just wanted to throw up.

But instead I licked.

I heard Master Mitch moan then. I'd heard moaning in that porn video, but this was different. This was right here, next to me, caused by me. His dick pulsed on my tongue; more precum flowed out, and I was scared, so I drank it down like he wanted. I kept licking; he moaned again.

"Put your lips around it," instructed my new Master. "Suck on it like a lollipop."

If that had been his first command, I'd have rebelled. I'd have said no. But I'd already done so much, and I was so scared, I just did it. I wrapped my soft red lips around this big man's dick, and I began to suck.

"Don't let your teeth touch it," he said, and I tried to obey.

It was really tiring to suck on such a big dick. My jaw was stretched, and my muscles were tired, and more and more of his precum kept leaking out and I kept swallowing it. I think he could feel me slowing down, because he grabbed me with his hands on either side of my head and pushed me down.

I gagged, and tried to pull off, but he didn't let me. I didn't understand yet that I was a slave, that how I feel doesn't matter. All that matters is how he feels. He's my Master.

Using his big, strong arms and hands, he started to shove my face back and forth along his cock. It was coated in my spit now, more drool leaking out of my mouth, as he rocked it back and forth. My arms and legs twitched as if to fight back, but they didn't. He was so strong, and with each pull the cock went deeper into my mouth, deeper, deeper, until it pushed into my throat and he pulled me deeper, and it slid down, and I couldn't breathe.

He held it there a moment, his cock throbbing within me, filling my mouth and snaking down my throat in a way I'd never felt before and I didn't like it. Then he pulled me off. "Deep breath," he said.

I complied.

And then he shoved it in, again, down my throat. He pulled my head back and forth in short thrusts, massaging the dick that was buried within me. My throat was on fire; I needed to breathe desperately.

He pulled up one more time. I felt the now-familiar taste of precum, more of it, on my tongue. I gasped for breath, took a deep one… and he forced me down again.

It was so deep, he held his cock in there. I couldn't breathe but he was moaning and gasping in pleasure, his hands tightening on me, his hips bucking, forcing it deeper if it could even go deeper.

And then he came. I didn't know that's what it was; I just knew that his dick was pulsing, swelling right in my throat, hurting even more. I could feel something thick and gooey in there, but I didn't know what that was. It oozed down in my stretched and sore throat.

For the first time, I drank cum.

At last, my Master pulled out. I gasped for breath, looking at him with wide, scared eyes.

"Lick it clean," he ordered.

My Master's cock was so gross to me back then. (I'm sorry, Master.) It was covered in all sorts of slimy stuff, my spit and his cum and whatever else it picked up in my throat. It was big even as it started to shrink, and it was scary, and I was naked and wearing a collar and leash and scared. So I leaned forward and began to lick it. I licked up all the goo that was on it. Master was still leaking cum, like he does after using me, and I licked that up too. It was my first taste of cum ever, but there was going to be a lot more where that came from. Literally, haha.

* * *

He made me brush my teeth. He actually made me do it way more than my mom ever did, really covering everything. And he made me use adult toothpaste, which didn't taste as good.

Then it was time for bed. There was one bed, and we both climbed in naked. He cuffed me again, hands and feet, but at least my hands were in front this time, and my hands and feet weren't cuffed together. I was gagged, too, just in case. And then he held my warm little body up against his, close and tight. Spooning, but I didn't know that word yet. He wrapped his big, thick arms around me and then pushed my hands to the side where they had been protecting my privates, because I didn't know they were his yet. Once he got my hands out of the way, one of his big hands wrapped around my boycock and balls.

"You're going to be great, my little slave," he mumbled. "I've been watching you for so long." His hand started to gently stroke along my dick and I gasped at the sensation; I couldn't help it. Did it get hard? I honestly don't know, I didn't even think to check. "I can't believe I finally have you," he continued. I could feel his warm breath along the back of my neck with each word, wrapped in his strong arms.

And then… he fell asleep. I didn't think I could fall asleep, not like that, but I was really, really tired, and I did, held in my Master's arms.

* * *

I didn't like the next day very much, either.

I slept badly that night. I had nightmares, and I woke up several times in the night, only to find myself in a strange man's arms. I thought about trying to escape, but with the cuffs on my hands and ankles and the leash and how big Master Mitch is… I couldn't. Sometimes when I woke up, I'd be so scared I'd be shaking. I'd been taken from my family, from dance, from everything… and even then, I think I knew I'd never be going back. I'd feel tears running down my cheeks and I'd sob, quietly, until I fell back asleep.

The next day, Master Mitch began more of his new slave's basic training.

Everyone knows that a slave should wake up before his Master, but Master Mitch woke up first, so he undid my gag and slapped me awake. "Kneel, slave!" he said, but I'd just woken up and I didn't know what to do, so I just stared at him. He slapped me again.

"Kneel!" he said, pointing to a spot on the floor.

I scrambled up then, or as best as I could with the cuffs, and I knelt. (I almost fell with my ankles cuffed together.) I know now how much my Master likes it when I kneel naked. He says that he loves the way my smooth skin bunches up and folds and how it displays my slender body for him. I hope you like it too…

Anyway, I knelt, just like he taught me, all the way down until my forehead touched the floor. But he wasn't happy, because I'd forgotten my lessons from the day before. He reached down, pulled my head up by the hair, and gave me another slap to my cheek and I cried out in pain even though it wasn't that bad. "What do you say?" he shouted.

I had just woken up, and I was confused, and this man was so big and he was towering over me and… and then I remembered.

"Yes, Master," I said. My lip was trembling in fear and I could feel the rest of my body shaking too. He stood expectantly, and I wondered if I was supposed to say anything else. But I knew he'd hurt me if I said the wrong thing! The silence got longer, and longer, and longer. Finally, I said in a shaking voice, "I'm sorry, Master."

"That's right, slave," he replied. "I will teach you your morning duties later, but we have a long drive ahead of us. For now, kneel, and suck."

Master Mitch sat down on the bed then, and he spread his legs. His big, hard dick hung there. I slowly pulled myself up and stared at it.

I was so scared.

My lip was trembling again. More tears ran down my cheeks. But I brought myself up, shuffled forward, and began the task I'd received training on just last night. Once again I took my Master's cock into my mouth.

Master Mitch was gentler this time. He didn't force himself into my throat. Instead, he trained me. He taught me to use my tongue, he taught me to suck harder, he taught me to bob my head back and forth, and maybe he even taught me to stroke the part I couldn't take in, I don't remember.

Why did I take his cock in so readily? Maybe it was because I was so scared, or because I figured I'd already done it once. But now I obeyed each new command he gave. Was that also because I was scared? Or was it because I liked it already? When I think back now, I feel my boy-dick strain against the cage my Master put on it. Maybe I liked it. Maybe I already wanted to be the smaller one. I don't remember, really. I guess it doesn't matter.

But I sucked him. I ran my tongue around his tip when he told me to, and I bobbed my head back and forth, and I licked up all his precum. Master Mitch was moaning, his big cock pulsing in my mouth. I didn't know the sounds of pleasure he made then, but now I know every sound he makes. No one is better at bringing my Master pleasure than me.

"See?" Master Mitch said. "What a quick study you are." He ran his hand through my hair and let out a gasp of pleasure as my tongue ran along his tip. "I'll turn you into a perfect little slave." He gasped again, then put his thumb on my forehead and pushed my head back, tilting my face up to look at him. "And I'll tell you one other thing, Paul," he said. "You're going to like it. You're going to like being my slave."

He held me like that, just looking up at him, for what felt like an eternity. Then he just said: "Now keep sucking." And I did. I turned my head down, opened my mouth, and took him in once again.

"Ohhhhhh fuuuuuckkk," moaned my Master as I continued my second-ever blowjob. He says that all the time now. It was probably just like he does now: he would have humped his hips forward, and maybe his hands were going through my sweaty hair even if they weren't pulling me on deeper like the night before. And then – I know this really well – he would cry out and shove forward, and his dick would get even longer, and it would pulse, and then the first stream of hot thick cum would shoot out into my mouth. It's all a blur in my memory, but that's what it's always like.

All I remember is what he said just before that happened. "Swallow it all, slave."

…and, as his dick pulsed hard in my mouth, I swallowed. Because I was scared? Or because I wanted to?

I couldn't get it all. My Master cums a lot. I mean it. I've sucked a lot of dicks by now, and my Master isn't the biggest, but he definitely makes the most cum, it's kind of crazy. I can swallow it all down now, but then I couldn't even though I tried.

What's the word my Master likes? Yeah, cum dribbled down my chin, onto my chest and belly. I just did the best I could, and swallowed everything I could. I think I did okay for my first time.

Master Mitch made me scoop the rest up with my finger and swallow it down. "A slave never wastes his Master's cum." He says that a lot, I bet he said it then. Even though I didn't really know what cum was until that moment.

He made me shower then while he watched, and he made me keep the water on cold. "You don't deserve warm water yet, slave," he said. I remember that part really well. "You can earn it."

Then he bound me again, just like I was in the trunk. Wrists cuffed behind me, ankles cuffed, and the two chains cuffed together. He gagged me, and left me in the motel room. At least he left me near the heater, because I was cold, damp, and naked. When he showered, I saw the steam coming out of the bathroom from the hot water.

He dressed, took out his luggage, and popped the trunk. After checking that no one was around, he picked up my naked body, carried me outside, and shoved me back in the trunk. Then he slammed it down and it was dark, and quiet. I guess he was checking out.

Then we drove for a long, long time.

He'd scheduled a couple of breaks. Places where he'd looked ahead for exits off the highway in secluded places. Where he could drive off the road to the edge of a forest, or a deserted field. Where he could pop the trunk and let me out, let me walk a little bit. (The cuffs were still around my ankles, but I could take small steps.) He let me piss there while he watched. He gave me food, and some water to drink, but not too much so I wouldn't pee in the car, I guess. I was scared, but it felt great to stand, and to feel the sun on my body. Even if I was naked. Even if I was embarrassed. Even if the gag never came out.

Actually, that's not true, the gag did come out. At two of the stops, he had me kneel and suck him off again. I was getting used to it already. I swallowed.

When he told me to lie down so he could bind me up for the trunk again, I didn't want to. But I did. What else could I do? I lay face down on the grass, with it tickling my naked body, and he pulled up my ankles, pulled back my wrists, and attached them. Then he picked me up, wiped off grass and bugs, and stuck me in the trunk again.

We finally got to my Master's house that night. It's big and secluded, away from anyone who might see anything amiss. Perfect for keeping a little slave, of course.

Master Mitch decided he wanted me malleable and easy to train. So after feeding me and making me clean up (another cold shower!) and brush my teeth, he bound me up again. He ordered me to stand there while he placed individual cuffs on each of my wrists and ankles, and a collar on my neck. And then he bound me to an X-shaped cross, sized already to my smaller body. He locked the cuffs at my wrists and ankles to the end of the cross, keeping me spread out. I guess it was a relief compared to the trunk.

Then he put the gag back into my mouth.

The last part was the really hard part, although I didn't know it yet. They were nipple clamps, which already really hurt. I whined through my gag and looked pleadingly at Master Mitch, but it didn't work. Now I just know looking at him like that turns him on.

Then he left, turning off the light and shutting the door to the basement where I was being held.

I whined again, squirming, unable to get comfortable. Was I really going to have to sleep tied up and standing up like this, and with these painful clamps on? They really hurt! (Or I thought they did. These days, I can take them no problem.) But the answer to that was yes, and even standing, I drifted off eventually…

…Until the clamps started sending electric shocks through my body.

Master Mitch had programmed them with a ten-minute sequence of painful shocks. I screamed into my gag, I didn't know what it was, I thought I might die! But I know now they weren't actually that bad, not really. After ten minutes, it was finally over… and eventually I drifted off again.

Until they went off again two hours later. My Master had programmed them to go off every two hours, to make sure that I'd get some sleep, just not enough.

The next day, when he finally came down (he was kind and gave me ten whole hours, just with the bondage and the pain), he found me asleep. He slapped me, and I started awake, fearing more shocks. I whimpered. I was so tired, even though I'd slept. There were dried tears on my cheeks, and I felt my body trembling. I gasped as he released the clamps, and let my ankles and wrists off of the cross and then removed the gag.

"Kneel, slave," he said.

I knelt. "Yes, Master," I coughed out, my throat dry. There was no fight left in me. Not after that night. Not with how tired I was. I was ready to do whatever my Master told me to.

Which was exactly how he wanted it.

"It's time for you to learn the rules of being a slave."

* * *

Soooooo… pretty hot, right? Right?

You're going to tell Master Mitch that, right? Please? That it was hot?

I think about what he said, you know. That I would like it. Sometimes I wonder. Did Master Mitch make me into a slave? Or was I always meant to be a slave? That's what he says, and I guess Master is always right, but… I guess I'll never really know if I could've been anything else if he hadn't taken me. I just am what I am now.

So yeah. Tell him it's hot. That I'm a good slave and stuff. My writing time is basically over, so I have to go cook dinner for my Master and stuff.

And you'll like this. After I do serve him dinner, I offer to service his cock while he eats, right there under the kitchen table. I mean, just if he wants it, of course.

But I hope he does want it. He's always in a good mood after I do that. I'm really good at it by now.

Chapter 2
Rules of Ownership

Oh wow, Master Mitch said you liked my first story! I was so nervous all day, waiting to hear what people said, and he didn't tell me anything at first but then finally he told me you liked it. Thank you so much! I feel like I have fans or something, which is kind of cool.

Although he told me that one anonymous person wrote:

Can't wait to hear more of you, Paul. Tell your master I liked your story so far.

But you also need to do better. I want to feel what you felt! Only then have you succeeded. So there needs to be some punishment until you get it right. Also tell that to your master.

That was just… mean, all right? Really not cool. I'm doing my best. And everyone else liked it!

Whoever you are, Master gave me five strokes with the paddle. And I'd had a perfect day until that! Did you have to write that message?

I guess I'll try to do better, though. I mean, it's not like I really have much choice. It's not like I really get to say what happens, right?

So yeah, I should tell you what happened…

* * *

Master Mitch called me over. I'd been doing some cleaning in the kitchen, so I dried off and headed out to the living room.

When I got to the living room, I paused at the entrance. I was naked, of course, with just my collar, wrist and ankle cuffs on, and a medium size butt plug, and a cock cage.

As a slave, there are different ways I'm supposed to stand or kneel depending on the situation. Since Master Mitch just called me, I stood at the doorway "at readiness." I held my legs about a foot apart, keep my hands behind my back and use them to push my hips forward ("nice and on display," says my Master), and I keep my head bowed. Then I said "Master," and stood like that until my Master acknowledged me.

"Come here," said my Master, waving me over.

"Yes, Master," I replied. Since it was a command, I acknowledged him the way I am supposed to. Then I walked over and resumed the stance.

Master reached up and casually started rubbing his hand across my nipples. It's a thing he does when he wants me to be aroused, especially when I'm caged. He knows that my nipples are pretty sensitive, and sure enough, I felt myself blushing. I moaned a little bit, and I felt my boy-dick stir and start to painfully fill up the tiny cage. I tried to stop myself but of course I couldn't help it, not when Master wants it. I think a drop of precum leaked out.

The precum is new, I only started making it a couple of months ago. And cum, when he lets me. I actually started to grow pubes like a month ago. Man, I was so proud of them, but also kind-of nervous about what Master would say. He shaved them off, of course.

It really sucks, being 13 and a slave. You're so horny all the time and there's nothing you can do. So now I was hard in my cage and blushing.

"Such a beautiful little slave," he said, enjoying the feel of my skin. Then he told me why he'd really wanted me to come over. "Do you want to see how your story did?"

I bit my lip. I did, of course, but it was really humiliating to know everyone could read it and know everything I did. And… what if people said they didn't like it?

"Well?" asked my Master, when I hadn't replied.

I shook myself awake. "Sorry, Master," I finally replied. "I do."

He took his hand off my nipples and I relaxed a bit, although I still felt really hard down there. Then Master showed me the story online, and how thousands of people had read it. I stood in a daze, thinking about thousands of men beating off to me, to what happened to me, and I bit my lip again, feeling another twitch in my cage. I nervously curled one foot over the other as I stood there, looking at the stats, the likes, the number of comments…

"Thousands of people, Paul," he said. "You did well."

I smiled. I love his praise. "Thank you, Master," I said, with a blush… but I bowed my head, just in case.

So then he showed me some messages. People who liked my story. (Thank you!) I blushed deeper. "This one says he liked your training," he said, rubbing my shoulders affectionately. "And this one says he came six times."

I nodded, but didn't talk, since I hadn't been spoken to. I just looked, keeping my stance with my legs apart and hands behind my back, while my Master continued to touch me.

And then he withdrew his hand, and he showed me your message. Yes, you, the anonymous guy who wrote that you want to feel what I felt. That I needed to do better. That I needed to be punished.

"That's not fair!" I cried when I saw what you wrote. I know I should've held it in, but I couldn't. "I worked really hard and I–"

"Paul," he interrupted. He just looked at me. I stopped, and dropped my head. It took me a second to get my voice under control.

"Yes, Master," I said. Then I added, "I'm sorry, Master." I was still looking down. "I–I'll try to do better."

I didn't say that I thought you were a jerk for telling him to punish me even though you still liked the story!

Master looked at me and said, "You did well, Paul, but not well enough. You understand that, right?"

"Y-yes, Master." I kept looking down so he knew I wasn't challenging him in any way. I had already messed up enough. Maybe he wouldn't have actually punished me if I hadn't spoken out of turn, but…

"Go to the punishment room and wait for me. Think about how you could make your story sexier for this fan."

I took a deep breath, and felt my fingers press into my thighs but then I let go. Arguing would be dumb, and I knew it. I answered as soon as I felt like I could. "Yes, Master." If he could tell how frustrated I was, he didn't say anything.

I left the living room, keeping my head bowed to show my submission, and I went to the punishment room.

I don't need to describe that room, right? It's like out of a movie or something. Cold, bare floor, so it's easy to clean. Hooks on the walls and floor so he can latch them to my wrist and ankle cuffs. Chains for that too. Whips, floggers, paddles, clamps, rope, chains, gags, plugs, dildos, an x-cross, a bench, a fucking machine… I mean, it's what you expect. I guess the one thing is that my Master is kind-of messy, so it's not like one of those perfectly-arranged "look at that beautiful glass case of dildos" sort of rooms. No, this is a room where he actually uses that stuff. On me.

As I opened the door, a dildo he'd left on the table near the entrance rolled off and landed on the floor. I rolled my eyes and picked it up, putting it in the crate where it belonged. It was my job to clean the room (of course), and to prepare it for use (on me). I hadn't really been able to because of the writing, and clearly I'd have to come back and do some tidying later.

You know, he didn't have all of this stuff at the beginning. Just some of it. But he keeps getting new ideas for things he wants, and then I get to try them out.

Anyway, I had to stop thinking about that stuff and wait for him properly. I went to the center of the room and knelt.

When I wait in the punishment room, I have to hold a different stance. I get down on my knees, to show submission. But instead of lowering my forehead to the floor, which is to show respect, I spread my knees apart to show exposure and vulnerability to whatever Master Mitch wants to do to me. That means my little cock is dangling out in front of me, open to him, as are my thighs. Well, I'm caged, so I guess only my balls are dangling, but it still opens that part right up. Then I put my hands behind my head, with my elbows out. It keeps my chest and belly forward, and it exposes my armpits. It also hurts when I stay like that for too long, which shows that I will obey all his commands. I have to hold that stance until he arrives.

At first, I was just angry, but I knew that being angry would just get me into more trouble. And c'mon, I knew I'd messed up. I should never have lashed out, and especially not at my Master.

But my mind was racing. Was Master smiling when he showed me your comment? Was it all a test, just to see how I'd react? A test that I'd failed? I was so mad, mad at you, mad at myself, mad at everyone! I hadn't been a good slave…

Master hadn't come yet. It looked like he was going to make me wait. Once I calmed down, I tried to do what he told me and to think about how to make my story sexier for you. I guess I'm trying some of it now, really…

So what does it feel like? I mean, the biggest thing is that my knees really hurt. I learned eventually to put more of my weight back, on my feet, and then sometimes I push my weight forward when it starts to hurt too much in my toes. It's hard, but Master trained me so I can hold that position for a really long time.

Then there's holding your arms up, with your hands behind your head and elbows out. That doesn't hurt, but your muscles get tired fast. I learned to, I don't know, kind of pulse my muscles to hold it longer? But you just get sore and it's really hard to hold. All of it reminds me that I belong to my Master, of course.

But the point is how you feel. It's not just that your body is doing what you tell it to do to please your Master, but also that you're on display for him. When he comes in, he can see anything, play with anything he wants. I just know that my dick and balls are hanging out, that my chest is out, that my whole body is there, just how he likes it. I'm my Master's toy, and when he wants to play, he can.

I was sitting there, thinking about that and how to tell you about it, when he came in. "There you are, my pet," he said.

I didn't move, or say anything. He hadn't asked me a question or told me to change positions. I just remained kneeling like that on the floor, exposed, looking up at him. He walked over to me, towering over me, and kicked off a slipper.

He raised his foot up and used his big toe to play with my balls. (My cock cage is the kind that holds my dick but leaves my balls mostly free.) I groaned. I wish it didn't, but being exposed like this already gets me hard, and then him playing with me like that… I was swelling really hard in my cage and it hurt. I moaned softly, trying to stay in place for my Master.

He leaned down then, reaching out and giving my nipples a tweak. "Guh!" I cried out, feeling a drop of precum leak between the bars surrounding my dick. I knew I had to just take it as I felt his big hands slide across them again. His hand was warm and a little bit rough, and now my nipples had gotten hard too. I felt myself shudder underneath his touch, twisting in place, my knees still pressing into the hard floor while I looked for some better purchase. I was panting softly, unable to control my own reactions. Finally he stepped back, looking me over.

"Good boy," he said. I smiled faintly at his praise. "Stand."

"Yes, Master," I replied to the command. It really wasn't easy to stand up, not after kneeling like that for so long. My bare feet were kind-of numb, and I felt my ankles almost give out but I managed to keep them under me. I was shaking when I finally stood up, legs spread slightly, arms at my side, head down in submission as I faced toward him. My feet and ankles still had a numb fuzziness in them, and it was hard to stay standing, but I did.

Master Mitch nodded at my standing. "The bench," he said. "Lean over it."

"Yes, Master," I said, hiding any trace of emotion. The truth is this wasn't really that bad. The "bench" was a padded bench built to about the length of my torso. I have to lay belly down on it, arms and legs dangling down. It hadn't been outfitted this way at first, but at one end of it there's a chin rest that keeps my head up at exactly the right height for Master's dick. My legs dangle down each side near the other end, leaving my butt at a similar height. I have to climb up a bit, because it's tall enough my feet don't actually touch the ground, but I was pretty used to it by now.

My Master came over and leaned down, locking my ankle cuffs into place, and then my wrist cuffs. He pulled down on the straps, making sure I was pulled tightly. When he was done, I could barely move, and my smooth, lithe body was stretched tight. (See, I put that description there for you!) The cuffs dug into my skin as they forced my limbs out.

The worst part of this, honestly, wasn't being tied down. It wasn't even what he was about to do next. The worst part was that as he tightened the straps in place… I felt my little dick stretch uselessly against the cage again. It was so frustrating! I didn't like it, but I did like it. Had he trained me to like it? Did I always like it? All I knew was that I could hardly wait for the punishment, and I dreaded it, and I wanted release so badly and I knew I couldn't get it and I felt more precum in my cage and it was driving me crazy.

I'd never been like this before he kidnapped me.

I heard some clacking behind me, and I knew what it meant right away. Master was going to paddle me. He came back and he held it in front of my face so I could see. It was wider than some of the others, but the wood was a bit thin, so it had some flex. A bit of a sharper hit but not as painful or heavy as the worst of them. He held it up to my face, and I pursed my lips to give it a kiss like I'm supposed to.

"Thank you for this punishment, Master," I said. My words were slurred slightly from having my head in the chin rest.

He took the paddle from my face since I'd completed the required pre-punishment task, and now he held it up against my butt cheeks. It felt cool, but that wouldn't last, of course.

Then he pulled it away. I heard the whoosh of it flying through the air, and it landed on my ass with a sharp slap.

God, that thing really hurts, but I didn't cry, or shout, or anything like that. It was a really sharp pain, though, the kind of thing that's just like a jolt. It was like I could feel my ass getting redder from it, just because of the heat. The impact pushed me forward, pushing my chin against the guard that held my face up. I felt my naked body slide against the bench. But I didn't shout, not from one blow. I just grimaced and held it in.

"One, Master," I grunted. My dick pushed again against my cage, and I moaned, and immediately felt ashamed for it.

The second hit landed hard against my ass, and I felt the pain echo through my body. It also made my plug shift around inside of me. I gasped, my body helplessly sliding forward again, my legs pulled tight by the binds before I settled back down. I didn't cry or anything, but I did kind of feel tears in my eyes.

"Two, Master." Breathing had gotten a bit harder. My dick was still straining against my cage. This sucked and I was so turned on!

The third hit landed, and I let out a grunt. Even between hits I could feel some heat there. The plug was definitely moving around inside of me, and my butt really hurt. I still didn't cry, though. I just took it.

"Three, Master." I guess my voice was higher than usual, and I blushed. I tried to shift my body a bit but that just made my dick harder in its cage. There wasn't any way to get comfortable, and then the fourth hit landed.

It felt harder than the others, and I couldn't stop myself from letting out a high-pitched "eeeuuuuuhhhh" even if I felt kind of like a baby for not being able to take it. My dick was throbbing, and I was sweaty. There was a pulsing pain in my ass now, and the plug was definitely rubbing against my prostate.

"Four, Master," I said. I felt his hand touch down lightly on my ass and rub it a bit.

"Just one more, Paul," he said.

"Yes, Master," I replied. I couldn't see him. I couldn't even turn my head. I just had to lie there and take it.

The fifth hit came, good and hard, of course. My body slid on the bench, sliding on my own sweat. Whatever sound I let out was part grunt, part moan, but I didn't cry. I just took the hit.

"Five, Master," I said, breathing heavily.

"There we go," Master Mitch said. He laid a hand on my back, and it was warm. "You did well, my little slut."

"Thank you, Master."

Normally, after a punishment, I would kneel, thank Master Mitch, apologize, and offer to serve him. But when I heard him set the paddle down nearby, he didn't uncuff me.

The next thing I knew, he took out my plug. I should've known this was what would happen, I thought, as I felt him drip some more lube on my ass. After all, he hadn't fucked me this morning after my pledge.

His hands spread my smooth but now sore butt cheeks, and then he lined his dick up. I gasped a bit as he slid it right into my 13-year-old hole. I used to cry when he fucked me because it hurt. It still hurts, but not that bad. I like it now. I think I always did? Kind-of? Anyway, I just gasp now or something like that, I don't cry, I'm pretty good at this.

It's big, and it totally fills me up. Although I guess some of his friends are even bigger, so it's not like I can't take it bigger or anything. I've been able to take everyone's cock eventually, so that's pretty cool. But my Master's is still special. I could feel my naked body twisting on the bench as he pushed in. It always touches my prostate and stuff when it goes in too, so my own dick was throbbing in my cage. Ugh!

"Mmmm," he moaned softly. "That's right, my good little boy." He pulled out and thrust back in.

Anyway, then he started to fuck me hard. My Master must've been really turned on by the paddling. He grunted as he used his big body to push in. I felt his weight on me, his sweat. Then he pulled out, and slammed in again. Each time when he pushed me forward, I felt my tummy and chest slide along the bench until my legs were being pulled really hard by the cuffs. Out, and in again. Out, and in again. Each time pressing my damn prostate.

"You're a good slave, Paul," he said, taking a break for a moment with his dick inside of me. "You know that."

"Yes… Master…" I replied weakly.

He started fucking me again.

I couldn't think clearly as it went on. You'd think after being fucked every day for a year, some days more than once, I'd be used to it or something, but that's not how boys work, I guess. Or maybe it's that he doesn't let me cum very much. My prostate kept getting rammed, my dick was leaking precum onto the bench and I was sweaty from being so turned on, so whenever he pushed into me I slid forward along a layer of sweat and precum. I was drooling where my head was held in place, down along my chin and onto the chin rest. I just kept moaning and grunting and gasping as he slammed in again, and again, and again. I felt myself lifting up my ass to try and slide it along his dick myself, and alternating that with humping into the bench (which really didn't work because of the cage), but I basically couldn't control what my body did anymore.

It's so weird to get like that, like I don't even know what's happening. It's hot and feels great but also sucks and… yeah.

All through the fucking, he kept grunting and saying things to me. "My little slut," he said as he shoved in. Or "what a nice piece of ass" as he readied for another thrust. Or "my beautiful toy" as he held deep inside of me.

I don't even know how long he kept that up, slamming his dick in and out of me. I was moaning, humping, desperate. All I could think about was the feeling of him inside me, and maybe of getting to cum, although if I'd been able to think I'd've known that I wouldn't get it. My whole slender, sweaty body was writhing on the bench, played expertly to the tune of his fucking. My own little dick throbbed and throbbed in its cage. Every part of my thirteen-year-old body needed it so bad, I was desperate, doing anything I could for it even while I was tied up…

"Yes, slut, yes!" cried my Master. He shoved in hard, his dick throbbing, and I felt the warmth of his cum as he shot hard into me.

"Uhhhhhhhhh!" I moaned with him, feeling my toes curl, my hands clench, my jaw tighten as I felt his pleasure won and my own pleasure denied.

His cum coated me, filled me even more, and he let out a loud moan. I gasped. It was warm and sticky inside of me. Finally he pulled out, and a moment later I felt the plug slide back in. Of course, I'd be holding that cum for him for the day. Maybe he'd still make me drink it down at the end. It kinda depended.

A moment later, he stepped up in front of me, right in front of my face, which was perfectly positioned. I knew what he wanted, of course, and even though I wasn't thinking straight, even though hormones were racing through my body telling me that I desperately needed to cum, this was reflex by now. It didn't require thought. I obediently opened my mouth, and licked his cock clean when he put it in. I made sure I swallowed every bit of cum, knowing that he'd made it all for me. My dick pulsed again in my cage.

By the time I was done, I'd regained at least some of my senses. He pulled it out. "Thank you, Master," I replied softly. "I am happy to please you."

He nodded. "Think you can go write?" he asked, as he began to undo my bonds.

"Yes, Master," I nodded, swallowing a little. I knew how horny I was.

"I expect the next chapter tonight," he said, as he finished untying me. "People are waiting for it."

"Yes, Master." I thought about all the people who'd be reading what happened to me.

"Good boy," he said. He ruffled my hair, then leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. "Oh, and wash up first."

"Of course, Master."

He nodded, and then left.

I sighed. It was hard to get up, but I managed it after a little time, although my knees were still shaking. The punishment room was a mess, so I thought about what I'd write while I cleaned it up. I put the paddle he'd used away, and put away a couple of chains he'd left out, and a flogger. Then I wiped down the bench he'd had me on, because I knew it wouldn't be too long before we used it again. It was pretty gross from all my sweat and precum and stuff.

I was pretty dehydrated from getting fucked like that, so I got myself some water, and then took a quick shower. Then I sat down to write. All through it, I was thinking about what to write, and I decided to show you just what happened to me after your message.

So there, Mr. Anonymous Commenter. Did you "feel what I felt" now? Was that good enough for you?

* * *

Anyway, I really should get back to the story of my training, but I thought maybe seeing what things are like now would help my reviews, you know what I mean?

And there's another thing I should've said last time but I forgot.

My Master is pretty cruel to me sometimes, but he's also kind. And… I dunno, I don't want you to get the wrong idea about us. I'm a submissive boy. I just am. I need him. I need what he does. He's taught me that. He's trained me to be like that. It's just… true.

It's like… I dunno. Someone wrote back, and they mentioned how I said I didn't like the taste of my Master's cum, or that I thought my Master's cock was gross. And like, it's true, it is. Or that's what I thought back then. Or something. I was writing about back then, when he first kidnapped me, not about now.

Now I… it's different. I don't know how to explain it. I kind-of love the taste of my Master's cum, I think. I don't remember when I first started to like it, but it's not actually that I like it, it's that… I dunno, I need it or something. It's still really gross, but I need it. Like, when I thank him for his cum, I'm not lying or anything. I mean it. I'm really thanking him.

This is really hard to explain.

I'm used to being my Master's slave, and honestly, it's what's right for me. Just like with his cock, it never stops being weird, or hard, or unpleasant, but I also love it and need it and it makes me who I really am. He was always right about that.

Ok, whatever. You're probably really bored. Let's get back to the story, because there's some more sex for you.

* * *

Anyway, right, my first night at Master Mitch's. In case you forgot, he'd left me tied up, spreadeagled all night on an X-cross, gagged, with electrified nipple clamps that went off every two hours. So yeah, not great. I'd been in and out of sleep all night.

I remember how I'd wake up every so often. The first thing I'd feel was how my muscles ached, and it would take a little while for me to remember where I was. Why I was there, why I wasn't laying down in bed, why my legs and arms were tied up. After a while, when I stopped being miserable about it, I'd think about how to escape. But my thoughts would get interrupted, and I'd think about how my friend had taken me. How I'd known Master Mitch for a while and I'd trusted him. And then I'd think about how dumb I'd been. I'd think about an article I'd read in the New York Times about pedophiles and how now it had all happened. I couldn't stop thinking about all kinds of things. I tried to get back to sleep even though it hurt and I couldn't turn off my brain. It wouldn't be long before the next time something stung my nipples.

When he came back down in the morning, I was so tired. Everything was hazy, I felt like I could barely focus on anything.

And, of course, just like he wanted me, I was pretty malleable to whatever he wanted to make me do.

He slapped me fully awake and untied me. "Kneel, slave," he said.

I knelt. What else was I going to do? "Yes, Master," I coughed out.

"All the way down."

I lowered my forehead down until it touched the floor, just like he taught me yesterday. Lowered my naked body in front of this man I'd thought was my friend. I felt a tear in my eye, and it ran down the side of my face from the weird angle I was at.

"Yes, Master," I managed to repeat.

"It's time for you to learn the rules of being a slave." He paused a moment. "Do you understand now what you are?"

"Yes, Master." It was getting easier and easier to say. I hadn't given in to him, but I remembered how much it hurt to say those words at first. How I had to force them out. Now they just… flowed. Maybe I was just tired. Or maybe I was already submitting.

"Show me," said the man who towered over me. "Show me how you obey. Lick my feet."

I froze. Even after everything that had happened, even after being kidnapped and trussed up in a trunk, and being bound and electro-shocked all night, this felt like something worse. It felt demeaning in a new way. Like I would lose a part of who I was if I complied.

I looked up at my Master from where I was on the ground.

"Do it," he said sternly. "You obey your Master's commands immediately and without question. You do not think unless the command requires it. You do not hesitate. Your feelings are irrelevant."

I can't really describe the emotions that washed over me. Why wasn't I fighting back? Why wasn't I standing up and yelling "NO!" But I knew why not. I was tired, I was hurt, and I was scared. And I was smart, too. What good would it have done? I mean, c'mon.

All my muscles tensed as I leaned forward and my tongue slid out pathetically. I felt another tear leak out of my eyes, and I felt so weak. I gave a slow, tentative lick of my Master's foot, and I felt less than human.

"No, my slave," he said. "Really lick it. Clean it. Between the toes, too."

I felt my gut clench. How could I do this? But I didn't want more pain. It wasn't like dreaming of escape while I was tied up overnight. Now I was kneeling, and he was looming over me. I tried to tell myself, what would it get me to fight back now? Nothing! I tried to tell myself that fighting back would be dumb, but doing it would be fine. It wasn't actually that bad. I wasn't being hurt. It was just gross, like a dare other kids might do together or something. It wasn't that bad.

Oh my God it was.

I felt like… a thing. Like a foot-washing device or something, way less than human. My stomach was tied up in knots and I felt my body trembling as my tongue started to go back and forth on that foot. I could smell the musk, the ground, his sweat. I'd never known I could feel like that, so completely… nothing. I wanted to throw up.

But the real thing is that it wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was that as I did it, while my tongue ran along the length of that foot, while he spread his toes and my tongue curled between them and licked up dirt and sweat-salt and old pieces of sock, while I felt my whole body shaking in humiliation… I felt my dick getting hard.

I mean, it'd been hard sometimes during this whole thing. When I'd been tied up a bit, or whatever. But now?

And even as I felt it, even as I felt so humiliated by what I was doing, I felt a warmth, too. Oh my God, I thought this was sexy.

I thought back to how I'd dreamed, during the night, of escape. Of going home to my family, and them hugging me and giving me ice cream, and telling the police what he'd done to me, and watching him get arrested. Of testifying at his trial. Telling them everything.

Would I be able to tell them about this?

And meanwhile I licked, and licked, and licked. Tongue running across every inch of his dirty foot. I was sobbing as I finished licking. I was blushing. I was turned on.

"Stand, slave," he commanded me. I was completely naked. No clothing on me. I stood up anyway. I thought about covering myself with my hands, but I remembered him getting mad at me. So I didn't.

And just like that, my hard dick dangled out in front of my nude, hairless body.

He looked right at it, right at my naked body, exposed for him, and he reached out and grabbed my dick. Just wrapped his fingers right around it like it was his property. And even if my mind fought it, even if I told myself I was going to escape, deep down, after all that, I knew it was. I swear that if I had escaped, and if I had called the cops on him and everything, thirty years later I'd still be lying in bed knowing that my dick really belonged to him. It was hard in his hand.

He stroked it, and I felt my body shift in response, my feet looking for firmer ground as undeniable, unwanted pleasure went through me. I moaned my little boyish moan.

"You liked it, little slut," he said. "Didn't you?"

I just stood there, hard, naked, blushing, feeling like nothing and everything all at once. Another moan escaped out.

"Answer me."

"Yes, Master," I said, the words automatic now, already the two most common words in my vocabulary.

"Did you like it, little slut?"

"I–" What was I going to say? Should I lie? Should I tell the truth?

"I don't want to do it again," I said, and lowered my head, waiting for a hit.

He nodded, and gave my dick another stroke. I moaned, on autopilot now. Then he removed his hand, and, to my surprise, gently stroked my hair.

"You were honest," he said. "Good." He continued to stroke my hair, and I shivered. I did not associate his touch with good things.

"Look at me, Paul," he said, using my real name.

I turned my face up to look at him. "Yes, Master," I said, on autopilot.

"You understand that you are now a slave. That you will do everything you are commanded."

"Yes, Master." I didn't even know what I really believed, I still thought about escape, but…

"You are property. You are owned."

"Yes, Master."

He stroked his hand through my hair again. "But you are my property. I chose you for a reason, and I am going to mold you, and shape you, into my perfect slave."

"Yes, Master." No thought behind the words. I shivered, and not just because I was tired.

"You are mine," he said, and he leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. I shivered again, even as I felt a little bit of warmth. I didn't know what to make of any of this, or what to do with it. I hated it and I was tired and I wanted to go home. And yet my dick was hard and I was incredibly horny, a feeling that I was still getting used to. I even leaned into that kiss, and I didn't like that at all.

I wondered if this was really going to be my life. If I could escape. If maybe someone could find me. Maybe, I thought, there was a way.

Master Mitch grabbed my leash. "Come," he said, with a simple tug. I followed obediently. What else was I going to do?

* * *

He started off feeding me and giving me something to drink. I know it looks like he's all mean, but that's not right. He's stern, but he helps me to be a better slave that way. I'm used to it, and honestly, it's what's right for me. He was always right about that, he really was.

So he took me upstairs, but of course I don't get to eat like he does. "Stay," he commanded me simply, while he began to get food together. So I stood, naked with collar and leash and cuffs, hands at my side, watching him while he got food together. Of course this would be my task later, but he hadn't trained me yet.

For himself, he prepared scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese, ham, and green onions. I was watching pretty closely, and I know he likes that because I make it a lot for him now. For me, he prepared what I would be having… well, forever. He got out a bag of some powder, took a scoop, and put it in a covered glass. Then he shook it, turning it into an off-white goop.

My heart sank as I watched that. It wasn't hard to tell who would be eating what. And then he poured the goop into what looked like a dog bowl, and filled up a second bowl with some water, and he put them on the floor of the dining room. I thought about being on my hands and knees again, like with the feet. I thought about what this meant about everything I was going to be. And I thought about how hungry I was.

And again my dick twitched. I tried to tell myself it wasn't hot, that I didn't want to be like this. Why did I like this?!?!?!?

"Breakfast time, my slave," my Master called cheerfully as he brought his food. Smelling it, I longed for that taste. I almost thought about trying to fight him right now, earn my freedom, and eat that breakfast… but that obviously wouldn't work.

"On your hands and knees," he brought me out of my reverie. "No hands."

Did I have to think before I gave my answer? Did I hesitate? "Yes, Master."

The way the bowl was positioned, my ass would face directly up at him as I ate. And I went down to my hands and knees, feeling myself once again on the floor, once again below him, once again just an object. I wondered if I would have to lick his feet again.

I remembered what it had been like to eat with my mom and dad at the dinner table.

But, ass up and towards him, I started eating the goop. It was tasteless. Bland. But it has all the nutrients any person needs. Just… none of the taste.

I lapped it down.

In between my slurps, and licks, and splashes, I heard the gentle tink of his fork hitting the plate as he cleaned off every bit of egg. My stomach grumbled. But at least it was getting full.

When we finished, my Master looked down at me. "How was it, little slave?" he asked.

I looked up at him from my position in the floor, not sure if I was allowed to get up. I had to turn around awkwardly to face him. "It was bland, Master."

"Well," he replied, "come here. We'll wash it down with something tastier." And he was already turning his chair, spreading his legs, and bringing out his dick.

I know some of you wrote in saying you wished I had more "fight" or something, that I fought back more. And I will! You'll see! But… really, what was I going to do then? I'm pretty smart, and I know when I can fight and when I can't. It's different when you're right there with him.

So yes, I crawled up to him, and yes, I opened my mouth for that dick, because what was I going to do? Fighting would just be stupid.

I really didn't like it back then, but I did it. Or I mostly didn't like it. I mean, my dick got harder, and it always gets hard now when I suck cock, so I knew something was going on with me. I put my lips around it and started to suck, until Master's hands came up behind my head and he started to face-fuck me. He always did that back then, because I hadn't learned to suck properly yet. Now if I do a good job he doesn't have to, and I can go at my own pace so long as I'm making him happy.

When he face-fucks me, there's just nothing I can do to make it better, especially back then when I hadn't trained my throat yet. I honestly never feel more used than getting face-fucked, even compared to getting it at my other end. His whole seven and a half inches [19 cm] just pulls in and out, stretching me wherever it needs it to fit. You're like a rag doll, and because it's literally your head, you see everything as the dick forces its way in, you see his crotch getting closer and then your face is right in his hair, you smell it, you get choked so even your breathing doesn't matter, and it just takes over everything about your thoughts. You even know you could stop it; you could bite down. But that's a dumb idea and I never did, so instead, I always knew I was letting it happen to me. I could've stopped it, but I didn't.

But yeah. In and out along his big dick, all the way out, all the way in. He loves doing that, watching me gasp for breath when just the tip is in my mouth, then watching as I feel the whole length squeeze its way back in all over again. He always talked about how hot it is watching his whole dick disappear into my mouth, one long, smooth insertion. But he doesn't feel it, how my mouth and my throat stretch to fit its width.

Anyway, he went faster and faster, and I felt him nailing my throat, his crotch hair zooming close, tickling my nose and lips, falling back, zooming close, falling back. I could feel a layer of sweat between his hand and the back of my head, matting my hair. I could hear my own involuntary grunts and gasps, and his moans of sheer pleasure. I could hear the slurping and squelching of his dick in my mouth and in my throat.

Drool and snot and sweat and tears filled my face as he used it. Even to today I haven't been able to stop the drool when he does this. But back then I was really a mess, just a well-used newbie slave boy getting absolutely pounded.

"Ohhhhhhhh yeah," moaned my Master, slamming my face down on his cock. "That's right, my little bitch." He pulled me off, then slammed me on again. "The small one." Again off, again slamming me down. "Little cocksucking slave." Again, my throat burning, eyes watering, face a total disaster. "You're gonna serve me so well."

He switched to short, fast thrusts, keeping it in my throat, just in-out-in-out-in-out really fast until finally he shoved his hips forward and I felt the warm ooze spurting down my throat as he came deep within me. His cock pulsed, stretching my throat even more, and he held the back of my head really tight so my nose was just totally embedded in his pubic hair. It smelled gross.

I sputtered but took it. I wasn't good at this yet, but it wasn't my first rodeo either, not anymore. I could feel the thick cum sink into my belly, with the other loads he'd already put there.

Finally he pushed me off. "Good," he praised me. "Now go upstairs. There's a bathroom; draw a bath. Call me when it's done, but don't get in until I come up. I expect you to be kneeling to me like a slave does when I come in."

"Yes, master," I said. It was even easier than before. I didn't think at all, I just said the words. And then I went upstairs, dripping some fluids off my face as I went.

I know what you're thinking. Why didn't I try to escape if I was alone? Well, since being kidnapped, I had spent about twenty hours tied up in the back of a moving car, been collared, leashed, and cuffed, been face fucked several times, been tied up for a night and nipple-shocked every couple of hours, and eaten subhuman food like a dog. I also had found that same treatment arousing with my boy-cock swelling from all of it. So you'll excuse me if I just obeyed my Master right then!

I wasn't stupid, because I knew my Master wasn't stupid. This was my first day. There was no way running would work, not like that, not the first time he left me alone. I figured I would bide my time, make a plan, find the right moment to escape. I mean, I did try eventually. Not that it worked.

I went to go fill the bath when suddenly I realized something. I didn't want to do this wrong or mess it up and get punished. So, carefully, I went back down.

"Master?" I asked.

"Yes, slave?"

"Master, you… last time you made me shower in cold water, and…"

He smiled. He smiled at me. "Very good, toy," he said. "You're a good slave. Use warm water. I intend to play too."

"Yes, master." I didn't know what that meant, exactly, but I had the information I needed.

So I went back upstairs and drew the bath. I filled it with warm water. I knelt. "Master," I called, "it's ready." Then I lowered my head down, awaiting my Master's arrival, and I shivered, pondering just what I was now and what I was doing. Wondering if any of this was my fault. If the signs that my body liked it said anything about me. Wondering if not fighting back said something about me.

* * *

I'm going to skip some of the details of the bath right now. Just tell you the part I think you'll really like, I guess.

Master Mitch took off my cuffs and collar, had me get in, and began to wash me. He ran his hands all over my naked body as I lay in the bath, enjoying his smooth, wet boy. "You're going to clean yourself starting tomorrow," he told me. "Twice a day, so your body is always clean and ready for use. I'll teach you how to do it thoroughly." I nodded, not realizing that meant enemas in addition to showers, so my body would always be beautiful and ready for him.

It felt demeaning to have him wash me like that. Did it feel worse than the other things? No, I guess not. But he just casually ran his hands over every part of my body, feeling every inch. Making it clear all those inches were his. Are his.

And then, of course, he got to my dick. Which was hard, because of course it was. He took it in his big hand, squeezed it, and gave it a stroke.

"Ohhhhhhhh!" I cried, my body humping up in the water, making little waves.

Remember, I'd never jacked off. I'd never seen porn, not really, until he showed it to me. The feeling of a hand around my dick, let alone my Master's hand, was totally new to me. It made both pleasure and humiliation seep through my body. It felt wrong. It felt right. I can't describe how weird it was, how conflicted and confused I felt.

"Ahhhh, that's right," said my Master. "I'm going to turn you into such a little slut." And then he gave me another stroke.

"Nnnnnnnn!" I felt another wave of heat pass through me. My toes curled, my hips moved up, I bit my lip and let out a whimper. I understood what he was doing intellectually, but experiencing it was totally different, overwhelming. I couldn't think clearly, I just knew that I was being violated and I needed more of it. I could tell he was controlling me; I'd never felt like more of a plaything, not even when I was eating out of the dog bowls. There, the humiliation was direct, but here he was actually controlling some deep, dark part of my desire and my needs.

He stroked me a third time. "Guuuuuuh," I cried. My body squirmed; not my choice, just something it did. All of me felt warm, filled with a longing I didn't understand, some kind of need that I couldn't comprehend. I'd been hard all day from being naked and what he'd been doing to me. I'm sure that one more stroke and I would have cum.

So of course that's when my Master stopped and left my dick to poke out of the water.

I was panting, holding myself up on the side of the tub while the rest of my body lay in the warm water. I needed something I couldn't understand; my 12-year-old brain had never had anything like this. I felt myself humping my hips into the water, uselessly. I looked up at my Master with wide, needy, uncomprehending eyes.

"Yeah," he said, running his hand along my chest, "you're gonna be a good slut." I pushed my chest into that contact, into any contact. "Now turn over, slave."

I didn't want to. My face was flush and I was still panting. I wanted another stroke. But… "yes, Master."

I flipped myself over in the bathtub. I didn't understand what he wanted, since I figured I was already pretty clean. Then he started cleaning my ass.

At first he just stroked the crack, rubbing back and forth. I had some idea what might happen next, since I'd seen the porn he put on my computer, and I was horny as fuck. I was humping my hard dick into the bottom of the bathtub (which doesn't work very well, it just slides around).

If I'd known he was going to do this an hour ago, I would've been disgusted. Now, as the tip of his finger prodded my hole and pushed its way in, I just moaned. I didn't want to be used by him, but my body needed to be used by him. When I had time later to think about this, I'd be so confused. But I think he knew that. That's what he wanted in his slave.

He wasn't going to push it in all the way, not now. He was just teasing me, and besides, he wouldn't want to tear his new property. So he just pushed in the tip. I pushed my forehead against the tiled wall and let out a long, high-pitched moan, my body shuddering. What did I even want?

"You're clean, my pet," he said. "Clean and horny, which is always what I like. Now let out the water and stand up."

"Y-yes, Master."

I debated… I actually debated asking if he was going to touch me more. But I'm glad I didn't. That would've been speaking without being spoken to. I stood up quietly. My hard, hairless little dick stuck straight out as I stood, my body dripping wet and naked as the water drained around me.

Master handed me a towel. "Dry yourself."

"Yes, Master." I was so horny. He watched while I obeyed, running the towel over my damp, naked body. The feeling of it when it got to my dick…

"No stroking yourself," said Master. "Your dick is my property. Just dry it."

"Y-yes, Master." I hung my head, showing my submission, and finished the job.

I don't know if any slaves are reading this, by the way, but you should totally know about that. It took me sooooooo long to figure out about body language stuff. Master Mitch gets turned on and, like, really protective whenever I hang my head down. It makes him remember how much he loves me when I just submit like that. It is so helpful if I messed up or just want some compassion or something.

But in this case, he didn't finish jerking me off, so I didn't cum. 😢

In fact, it would get a lot worse.

"Oh, Paul," said Master Mitch, his voice getting a bit softer as he looked me over. My body still glowed with its dampness. "There's so much I want to do to you." He reached up, idly playing with my nipples, which didn't help my throbbing dick. "It's a good thing we have so much time together, because there's so much, my toy." Fingers closed around a nipple, squeezing it lightly, making my dick throb even more. "You're just so perfect."

My mind was reeling, my cock desperate. What did "so much time together" even mean? What else did he have planned? What was happening?

I suppose he decided he'd left my dick alone long enough, because he gave it another stroke. My Master is always really, annoyingly good at timing that sort of thing. I let out a pathetic little whimper, and humped my hips forward, and felt it throb at his touch. The heat spread through me, as if I might be about to cum, and then his hand reached the tip and let it go, and it hung there in emptiness. I groaned with a need I still didn't understand.

He can still do that to me. I hate it so much.

And I love it.

ARGHHHH! You know what I mean? My Master is so frustrating!

But I didn't know any of that then. I just stood there, panting, eager, hoping that he would… something. That he would touch me more? That he would let me go?

Instead, he reached down and picked up my collar, putting it around my neck. "Hold out your wrists," he said, and as I did, he attached a cuff to each. Then he had me put one ankle up on the edge of the bathtub for an ankle cuff, and then the other.

Again he reached out and gave my dick a stroke. It was driving me insane, I was so horny and I didn't even really know what being horny meant yet! God, he's so good at that. I felt like my dick was going to fall off it was so desperate.

"P-please, Master…" I said.

"Slaves don't speak unless spoken to," he responded curtly. "Now come." He began to leave the bathroom, and I followed, naked except for cuffs and collar, and feeling my hard dick swing around as I walked.

I followed him through the house and into the punishment room, but it wasn't like it is now. Over the last year, Master Mitch has gotten a lot more stuff for it. Back then, there was a shelf with a couple dildos and butt plugs, a flogger, and the electric nipple clamps. That was about it. He's got way more now. You'll see soon, I guess.

Anyway, I basically froze at the door of the punishment room. I recognized it from where I'd spent the night before. "W-wha…" I said, before I remembered I wasn't supposed to speak.

"Come in, now," called Master, sternly.

I bit my lip. Saying no to him hadn't worked before. I was exhausted, and naked, and I knew he could hurt me. I came in.

"Over here," he called. He was pointing to a large chair that he'd moved to the center of the room. Slowly, reluctantly, I walked over. "Yes, Master," I said, my voice subdued. I sat down in the chair, and it felt cold against my skin.

A moment later, my Master was kneeling down, cuffing my ankles into place on either leg, spreading my legs in the process and exposing me. Every part of me wanted to run, and I struggled not to have flashbacks to the night before when I'd been tied up spreadeagled, or to all the time I'd already spent tied up in a trunk or a hotel room. My body shook at the idea of being bound again, but I held myself there as best as I could, even as I felt my fingertips grow cold from nervousness. Then he was cuffing my wrists behind the chair, forcing my belly and chest to bulge out. I felt my teeth chattering with fear. I could tell how vulnerable I was to him.

And then I was tied. I remember pulling on the bonds when he finished, although I don't really do that any more. No point.

"Don't worry, Paul," he told me, and his voice wasn't unkind. "No spanking. No electricity."

I looked up at him hesitantly. "Then why am I tied up?" At his look, I hastily appended the required honorific. "…Master."

"Because," he replied simply, "physical pain is not the only torment. And besides, I want your full attention."

"Yes, Master," I said automatically. I bit my lip nervously, and felt my toes bend, digging nervously into the floor. I really didn't like being naked like this, so exposed, especially tied to the chair. With him just standing there, I felt even more vulnerable. Like he could do whatever he wanted.

Which, of course, he could. He can.

And that comment, about wanting my full attention… I'd told him about how I'd sit in class, just reading books instead of listening to the teacher. He knew everything about me, because I'd told him all of it.

"Alright. So… what?" I said. It had felt like an eternity, but probably only about 30 seconds.

He smiled and reached down, hand curling around my dick. I was embarrassed to discover it was still sort-of hard, but then the feeling from his touch washed through me and I shivered. I hated how vulnerable I was to his touch. How it would always just make me feel good, for no reason other than him. It was like I couldn't even control my own feelings anymore.

"Uhhhhhhhhh," I moaned. I couldn't help it, even though I tried. My body felt prickly, and I shifted against the cold chair. He could just do that, just stroke my 12-year-old dick and my naked body would flex. After the bath, I was so vulnerable, and he stroked again. "Ohhhh… noooooo…"

"No?" he said, his voice a bit playful. His hand still rested on it, right between my spread legs. "Are you telling your Master no?"

My eyes widened as I turned to him, realizing my mistake. "N-no, Master," I said. "Of course not." I hated my submission, and yet I loved it. Either way, it was necessary.

"I own every part of your body," he said, giving my dick another possessive stroke. "Don't I?"

"Yes, Master," I said. Even if I wasn't tied up, even if he couldn't just hurt me whenever he wanted… my mind was just clouded with lust in that moment.

"You're my toy," he said, and gave me another stroke. I felt myself hump forward at his touch, another sign at how I didn't control my body anymore.

"Yes, Master," I squeaked out.

"My pet." Another stroke.

I was so close… but back then, I didn't know to what. I just knew I was humping forward and I felt my heart race. "Yes… Master!" I said, barely.

And then he withdrew his hand. "Ughhhhhh!" I cried out, still not understanding how my body was reacting. I felt my hips thrust forward even though I never told them to… what was happening to me?

And then his hands were on my shoulders, he was standing behind me. My hairless dick throbbed between my legs, sticking straight out. It had a mind of its own, I couldn't control it. I couldn't control anything.

"That's your first lesson," he said. "Every part of your body belongs to me."

He was still rubbing my shoulders, and then he reached a hand down to rub across my nipples. I felt myself lean into his touch, trying to get more of it. "Yes… yes, Master," I managed to say.

"Good," he said. "Repeat after me. Rule number one. I am a possession. I belong to my Master. I will be punished for disobedience." He ran his hand over my nipples again.

That was when it really hit me. This had gone from scary to… to some kind of fucked up perverted fantasy world I was living in. No, not that I was living in it. I was a part of it. I mean… possession? I was a possession?

(I mean, I am, of course, but I'm trying to describe what I was thinking back then.)

And… punished? I mean, I believed it, after everything that had happened.

I shivered. I tried to turn to look at him, but I couldn't because he was still behind me. My face was flushed red, I was tied down to the chair, and even while I hated what he called me, I felt a desperate need in my body. My dick was still hard, but I'd never felt this scared, not ever. It was these two opposing things inside me, these two out of control emotions: more than anything, I wanted him to touch me again, and more than anything, I didn't want him to touch me. I was humiliated, desperate, out of control.

And a possession.

"Now," he said, reminding me of the task he'd given me. His voice sounded hard. He'd already hurt me so much. Punished.

"R-rule number one," I managed through the haze of humiliation and need he'd made in me. "I, um, I'm a possession. I belong to my Master."

"I am," he corrected me. "And all of it. `I obey all rules or I will be punished.' Now. Again."

"Rule number one," I said. I tried to move my wrists, and couldn't through the binds. "I am a possession. I belong to my Master. I will be punished for disobedience."

I'd said it. It felt totally wrong, and totally true. Like something changed in my soul. My dick throbbed. I hated that I was hard! Had he drugged me or something? (He hadn't.)

"Rule number two," he said, "Possessions obey. I obey every command my Master gives. I am responsible for understanding my Master's commands, and must ask if I do not understand. I will be punished for any failure."

This was so sick. Can you imagine being free and saying this? I mean, it's no big deal now, of course, but back then… just try saying it out loud is what I'm saying. Back then…

"Rule number two. I will obey every command my Master gives. I, um, I am responsible for understanding my Master's commands, and must ask if I do not understand." It's really good I have a good memory. "I will be punished for any failure."

"And the first rule," he insisted.

"Ummm," I said. "Rule number one. I am a possession. Um. I belong to my Master." There was one more part…

Oh yeah.

"I will be punished for disobedience."

"Good," he said. "Smart boy."

"Yes, Master," I replied. Like, automatically.

"My little possession," he said. He gave my shoulders a caress, and then let go, striding over to my side. Reaching down, he brushed his hand right against the tip of my dick, just quickly, leaving it to swing back and forth in the wake of his touch. I groaned and felt my hips hump forward again, still not understanding my own need.

But one thing was clear. How easily he could just… touch… his possession.

"Wh-what are you doing to me?"

"Rule three," he said. "Possessions are discreet. I do not speak unless spoken to."

I bowed my head at the implicit rebuke. "Rule three," I said, my voice shaking with need and frustration. "Possessions are discreet. I do not speak unless spoken to."

He brought his hand up to my chin and curled his fingers around it. "You're a slave now, Paul," he said. "What you want to know is not as important as obeying my commands. But if you wish to speak, you may ask `Master?' and if I might give you permission to ask. Don't overuse it, or I might take away the privilege."

The privilege to even be able to ask questions. I nodded in his grip. "Yes, Master," I said sullenly, not daring to ask my question again. I would just have to take whatever he did, even if I didn't understand it.

"Now the other two," he said, still holding my chin.

"Rule number two. Um. Possessions obey. I will obey my Master's commands." I knew I was forgetting something. "I will be punished for any disobedience."

"Rule number two," he corrected, "is: Possessions obey. I obey every command my Master gives. I am responsible for understanding my Master's commands, and must ask if I do not understand. I will be punished for any failure. Repeat it."

"Rule number two. Possessions obey. I obey every command my Master gives. I am responsible for understanding my Master's commands, and must ask if I do not understand. I will be punished for any failure."

"Good." His voice was expectant.

"Rule number one," I said. It was about… belonging to him. "I am a possession. I belong to my Master. I will be punished for disobedience." I looked up expectantly. He nodded.

That last part was really easy to remember by now.

"Rule four," he said, letting go of my chin. "Possessions are respectful. I kneel whenever my Master enters, and stay kneeling until he commands me otherwise or leaves the room. I refer to my Master as `Master,' and all other free people as `Sir.'"

"Rule four," I said, starting to really worry about remembering the others. This was way more pressure than school. "Possessions are respectful. I kneel whenever my Master enters, and stay kneeling until he commands me otherwise or leaves the room. I refer to my Master as `Master,' and all other free people as `Sir.'"

He reached down, and gave my dick another stroke, sending waves through my unwilling but receptive body. I shook, needing that touch, hating that touch. "The others," he said.

"Rule three," I said, hesitating. Belonging… commands… kneeling! No, that's the one he just gave me. Speaking! He corrected me on speaking. "Possessions are discreet," I said, "I will not speak unless spoken to." I hoped I didn't have to remember the whole part about how to get his attention.

"It was `I do not speak unless spoken to,'" he said.

"Possessions are discreet," I quickly corrected. "I do not speak unless spoken to. Sorry, Master."

"And the others."

"Rule two. Possessions obey. I obey all of my Master's commands."

He interrupted me. "I obey every command my Master gives."

I sighed. I'd gotten the idea of it. This was a stupid test. "Rule two," I said, "Possessions obey. I obey every command my Master gives." I strained, thinking back to the exact words I'd heard before. "I am responsible for understanding my Master's commands, and must ask if I do not understand. I will be punished for any failure."

"Again," he said, "without the attitude. You should be eager to obey me."

"Rule two," I said, trying hard to keep my voice flat. "Possessions obey. I obey every command my Master gives. I am responsible for understanding my Master's commands, and must ask if I do not understand. I will be punished for any failure."

"And?"

Belonging. "Rule one," I said. "I am a possession. I belong to my Master." It was… feeling more true every moment. More than just his command over me. Just… true. And. "I will be punished for disobedience."

"That's right," he said. He reached down again, grabbing hold of my dick, and beginning to stroke it rhythmically.

"Uhhhhhh… UHHHHHH!" I cried as stroke after stroke sent waves of pleasure through my unwilling body. What the hell was happening to me? I couldn't do anything about it, though, I just squirmed in my bonds as his hand went back and forth, building a wave of pleasure, overwhelming me, all I could think about… his possession… and then he withdrew, and I felt myself ache for more. I hated myself for wanting more, but my whole body cried out for it. I think some drool slid down my chin, and then onto my bare belly.

He was smiling at my reaction. I know him now, though. How he likes to see me desperate like that. He must've loved the drool, he's such a… no, I shouldn't say that. ;)

Anyway, he just likes anything that shows how I can't control myself. "Rule five," he said, still enjoying me. "Possessions are meant to be enjoyed. I keep my body clean and ready for my Master's pleasure at all times."

"R-rule five," I managed to say, feeling heat and need roll through me as I naturally twisted my naked body against the bonds. "Possessions are… meant to be enjoyed. I keep my body clean and ready for my Master's pleasure at all times."

Anyway… yeah. It went on like that. Like, for so long. We don't usually go for so long, but I was his new toy back then, so I think he wanted to just really have a good time. Him jerking me off, but never enough to cum or anything. Just… building my need and making me memorize the rules. After each one, I had to repeat all the previous ones. There were twelve of them. It probably took at least an hour. Maybe two.

You probably want to know what they are, huh? Well, by now, I don't need to look them up or anything.

"Rule one. I am a possession. I belong to my Master. I will be punished for disobedience."

"Rule two. Possessions obey. I obey every command my Master gives. I am responsible for understanding my Master's commands, and must ask if I do not understand. I will be punished for any failure."

"Rule three. Possessions are discreet. I do not speak unless spoken to."

"Rule four. Possessions are respectful. I kneel whenever my Master enters, and stay kneeling until he commands me otherwise or leaves the room. I refer to my Master as `Master,' and all other free people as `Sir.'"

"Rule five. Possessions are meant to be enjoyed. I keep my body clean and ready for my Master's pleasure at all times."

"Rule six. Possessions do not own. Nothing I touch belongs to me, and I do not touch my Master's other things without permission."

"Rule seven. Possessions do not leave. I make no effort to contact others without my Master's permission."

"Rule eight. Possessions are useful. I keep to the schedule my Master sets for me."

"Rule nine. Possessions hide nothing. I never lie to my Master. If I do, I will be punished harshly." (Yeah, that one's not just "punished." He means it.)

"Rule ten. Possessions are only happy when their Masters are happy. They are linked absolutely."

"Rule eleven. Possessions are focused. They are never distracted from serving their Masters. Distraction will be punished."

"Rule twelve. Possessions belong where they are. They accept and deserve all that their Master does to them."

I was so horny when we finally finished the twelfth. And upset, from being called a possession so much and everything.

I'm used to it now, though. I mean, it's fine. I can recite the twelve rules perfectly, of course. Anytime, word for word. Just like I wrote them without looking.

I don't think I remember my old address, or my phone number. But I remember the rules.

When he was done teaching them to me, Master Mitch looked me over. I was sweaty, drooly, squirming, my dick had been hard for hours, I'm not sure I was thinking straight at all. "God," he said, "I'm so horny right now. You make me so horny, my little fucktoy. Open up your mouth."

I stared back. My head was swimming with the whole idea that I was a possession. I'm not sure I had any other thoughts.

"Yes, Master," I said obediently, opening my mouth.

He was already slipping off his pants, already bringing out his big, throbbing dick. He was horny, and I could see it because of all the precum. He came up to me, towering over me, but still my mouth was too high for his dick, so he untied my arms from behind the chair (but kept my legs tied). Then he grabbed the back of my head, bending me forward, pulling me down until my mouth wrapped around his dick.

"That's right," he said, "good boy. That's what a possession does." He slid me deeper along his cock, his hands gripping my temples. "Possessions are only happy when their Masters are happy. And I am very happy right now." He pushed on the back of my head again, and the tip of his cock touched the back of my throat. I started to gag.

"Oh yeah," he said. "You know what to do. Swallow. It helps it go down." And he pushed me in deeper; I tried frantically to swallow as I felt his thick cock start to stretch out my throat. Again.

It was so awkward in the chair. My legs were still tied down, I was bent forward, and his dick was coming in at a weird angle. But there wasn't really a lot I could do in his grip other than gag and feel it go deeper as he pulled me on.

"That's right, little fucktoy," he was saying. He likes to talk like that. Likes to remind himself how he owns me. "You're a good possession. You'll make me very happy."

My mouth was hurting from the girth of his dick, my throat was hurting because he was pushing his dick into it, and my back was hurting from being bent forward. And still he pulled and pushed me back and forth along his dick, spreading my saliva along it.

I felt my dick throb, still hard. Aching. I hated it, but it just stayed hard anyway. Why was it so hard?

(I mean, I don't like it now either, but now I don't like it because I'm caged and he never gives me a release.)

Anyway, Master Mitch pulled off. He held my head in place by my hair as his dick swelled up and started to shoot cum. Rope after rope of cum shot out, landing across my cheeks, my forehead, my nose, my ears. It was cool, gooey, and gross as it slid down my face, oozing onto my chest and belly. I sat there, panting, feeling disgusted and used and… like a possession.

"Lick it clean," he said, as his softening cock dangled in front of me.

"Yes, Master," I said reluctantly. And I leaned forward and began to lick, feeling the familiar taste of cum coating my tongue. I swallowed it down. I sucked on the tip until only my saliva was left, and I thought about what it meant to be taking such care with… with a tool that caused me… so much.

His dick was clean, and my face was a mess.

He pushed me back until I was sitting straight up, and it was a relief, even if I was still tied up. "Now," he said, "repeat after me. I accept these rules. I accept my role. This is who I am."

I felt cum oozing down my cheeks, oozing on my belly, soaking in between my thighs. Do you know what it's like to feel totally used? Like an object? Just an object?

I felt myself start to cry. I'd cried so much the past few days, while he was kidnapping me and everything. I thought I was done, but I was sobbing in my bonds, tears falling down. My whole body was wracked with sobs. I should be with my family, or reading, or dancing…

"Now," he insisted. He wanted to break me.

"I-I accept… these rules," I managed, between sobs. "I accept my role." I snorted, trying to pull snot back up my nose from all the crying. "This is who I am…"

Master Mitch nodded, and pulled his pants back up then. I still felt cum oozing down my naked body as he pulled me back on the chair and again tied my arms behind me. He grabbed my still-hard dick and gave it a few more strokes, making me gasp between my pathetic sobs; I still hadn't had any release and I was still hard. Then he made me repeat the rules again, all twelve of them, and I messed up several times. He corrected me. No punishment, but he made me repeat them, crying or no, until I got them right.

Then he took out a typed list of the rules, which he taped onto my bare thighs with some Scotch tape. Some of his cum oozed through, making the paper kind of transparent, but I could still read it.

And then he left me alone to practice. He told me that I'd better have all the rules down perfectly by the time he got back. I don't know for how long he left me there tied up on the chair. It was a while, and I felt myself getting really hungry, but I kept repeating them. Kept memorizing. Yeah, I got distracted sometimes, thinking of being off playing some video game or something… but I didn't want to get punished. I worked hard.

* * *

Just so you know, I got them all right.

I've got a good memory, and he left me with the list, so I just repeated them over and over, and thought about them (they kinda made sense), and learned them. I didn't get punished that day. I got them all, even tied up and covered in cum and whatever, and even though I was really hungry. I'm not saying I never messed them up ever or anything, but that day I got them. Even when he made me say them again that night, I got every word right. He was really impressed by that.

And did I believe what I was saying? I dunno. By then I'd repeated them so many times. They were sinking in, I guess. Sort of.

Anyway, when I got them right, he untied me. The feeling in my wrists and ankles was intense when the blood rushed back, but I think I was getting used to that feeling too. I'd spent… a lot of time tied up lately. And then getting untied, and made to do stuff.

"Stand," he commanded me.

"Yes, Master," I mumbled. I was supposed to acknowledge every command, I knew.

It was hard to stand. My feet were numb, and I tipped over a couple of times but managed to catch myself on the chair. Finally I was standing up, but it felt like I had needles all through my legs, and the soles of my feet hurt. I had to hold myself up on the chair.

"Good boy," he said. "You did well, my slave."

I looked back at him as I stood there, naked, and I might have blushed a little bit. The praise felt kind of good, and I had memorized a lot of hard stuff. I actually replied, "Thank you, Master."

"Stay," he said, kind of like to a dog, and he wandered to the side of the room, rifling through some stuff. (I didn't know then how messy he is. It's good I clean up now.)

Even though I was really scared, I screwed up my courage to speak. "Master?" I asked.

"Yes, slave?" he said. He didn't turn around, he just kept looking for the stuff.

I didn't know if I was allowed to ask, but… "I'm hungry. Can I… have something to eat, please? Master?"

He turned, looked at me. I felt a pit in my stomach. I knew I'd made a huge mistake, and he was going to punish me, I knew it. I felt tears welling up in my eyes. "I'm… I'm sorry, Master!" I cried. I didn't want to get hurt again. I didn't want to get tied up again…

"No," he said, "you asked well, my slave. You obeyed my rules. You should be proud of yourself."

Tears had been welling, and I felt one go down my face. I was catching my breath after being so upset by what I thought was a mistake. At his praise, I felt myself blush a little, and maybe I even felt a little bit of stirring in my dick, which had already been hard for a lot of the day.

"So I can eat… Master?"

He shook his head. "You asked well," he said, "but no, not yet."

I looked at him, and felt my tummy rumble. "But," I said, "I'm really hungry. Please, Master?"

"No." He sighed softly, and stepped towards me. "You are questioning my orders, and I can't have that, can I? Not if you're going to be a good toy for me." It took everything in me not to run away as he stepped up next to me. I was shivering with fear. "Not from my possession." The word hit me like a truck. He grabbed my hands and I flinched. He pulled them down, holding them in front of me, right in front of my dick. (Which, yeah, was hard.)

And then it came. Holding me in place, he reached back and gave a sharp spank on my butt. I felt my whole body jerk forward, but it just pressed up against my wrists that were held in front of me.

"Owwwwww!" I cried.

"You are a slave!" he said harshly, and he delivered another really hard spank on my bare butt. I cried out, and I felt my body tilt forward, but he was still holding me in place. I just bent forward, exposing my ass even more for him.

"You do not question your Master's orders!" I felt his hand come down again, really hard, and it stung badly. I felt tears start to come to my eyes, and I felt so pathetic standing there like that, held, getting spanked. Everything had changed so fast.

And then he hit me again.

And again.

And again.

It wasn't just that it hurt, although it did. My butt felt like there were needles in it, and more and more pain just kept coming. Each time I felt some cool air, there he was to spank me again.

But it was also that it was so personal. I was naked and exposed, he was right next to me, and holding my wrists in front of me while his bare hand hit me. It wasn't just pain. This was him, there, directly controlling me. Owning me.

And I was crying and sobbing, my face screwed up and tears falling down. Each time he hit me I yelled out. He kept spanking me, hard, again and again and again and again. I think it was like fifteen times in total, but maybe more. I was a total sobbing mess, held there by him, totally humiliated and hurt.

"Do you understand, slave?" he said, when he was done.

I looked up at him, feeling the tears, feeling pathetic. I felt his large body, holding mine, looming over me. I really, really didn't want him to hit me again. "Yes, Master," I finally got out with a raspy voice. "I'm sorry, Master. I'm so, so sorry!"

"Good," he said. "Your other punishment is that we're going to delay your lunch today. You will have to wait."

That brought some fresh tears to my eyes. I wanted to cry, to insist, to tell him how hungry I was. "Yes, Master," I said instead. I wanted food so badly. I never missed meals at home.

"And you're not going to question my orders again, are you, slave?" he said.

"No, Master."

"Good boy," he said. And he just turned around and went back to searching for whatever it was, as if he'd finished one task and needed to go to the other. Of course, that's exactly what had happened.

I'm trying to describe how I felt right then. I know you want to know. And it's… like, imagine me standing there, alone, naked. Cuffed. Crying, with tears falling down my cheeks. I felt so alone. I was hungry but I couldn't get food. I'd just memorized and said a bunch of things about being a possession. And I'd been spanked for being dumb and asking for food. My ass was stinging. It was really hard since I'd been free just like two days ago.

I mean, I deserved it, of course, but I didn't understand back then. I couldn't stop thinking about how unfair it was, and how hungry I was, and how humiliated I was, and everything. I wanted to eat. I wanted to go home. Read a book to calm down. Forget this ever happened, and never be naked for anyone ever again.

The thing is, it wasn't even a really bad spanking. Like, it wasn't. He didn't use a paddle. He didn't even bend me over his knee, so the hits didn't hurt as much since my body could move forward when it was hit. Like, on a scale from 1 to 10, where 1 is when he spanks me for fun during sex, and 10 is the worst spanking he's ever given me, that one was only a 3. But back then, it felt like a 10, and I cried like a little baby.

I've really grown up since then.

So anyway, while I was thinking all that, he finally found what he was looking for. It was my first-ever butt plug.

Of course I didn't know what it was when he walked over with it. I was twelve, for crying out loud, and not a pervert until he made me one. Honestly I figured it would go in my mouth, like another gag.

It wasn't that big. I guess he wanted to go easy on me, or not hurt me, or something. I can take a lot bigger now, up to nine inches [23 cm] long no problem (although not, like, while moving around), and pretty thick. But back then, he started small, like a couple inches [5 cm] long and really thin.

"Bend over, slave," he said.

I looked up at him, a bit worried. "Um," I said, "how should I bend over, Master?"

He laughed at that. "Bend over and touch your toes," he said. "It makes your ass stick out."

"Yes, Master," I said, and bent over. He set the plug down on the chair.

Big hands clenched on my sore asscheeks, spreading them apart. I squealed and then gasped when I felt cold, slippery lube touch down on my ass, and then his finger, swirling it around. I swayed at his touch. Balancing wasn't really easy like that, especially with him pressing on me.

"Look at this," he was saying. "A nice virgin ass, ready for use." I'd never really thought about anal sex, but I thought back to that video he'd shown me, and I had some idea from that…

"M-master?" I asked.

I could hear the delight in his voice as he answered. "The fucktoy has a question," he said, voice almost singsong. "What is it?"

I shuddered as his finger kept going back and forth around my asshole. "Are you… um, are you going to, um…" I was holding my ankles, bent over, I could only see his feet, it was really weird. "Stick it in?" I finished, awkwardly.

"It," he said, still enjoying himself. "What's it?"

"Your… your penis."

"Nu-uh," replied my Master. "I expect my possessions to use proper language." His finger slid across my exposed hole again. "What you want to ask is, `are you going to fuck me with your dick?'"

I bit my lip. My calves were starting to ache. But I did want to know…

"Are you… are you going to fuck me with your dick?" I managed to squeak out. Back then, I hadn't really talked like that before.

He smiled. (Well, I couldn't see him, but I'm sure he did.) I felt the tip of his finger line right up at my asshole. "Oh, I wish," he answered. "But I don't want to damage my property, after all. No, we'll get to that once you're ready. Smaller stuff in your little fuckhole for now." And then his finger started to press in, sliding through my defenses.

"Aaaaiiiiieeeee!" I cried out, feeling it press into me. "Ahhhh! Ahhhhh!" It was sliding into my body. I felt myself filling up, felt it squeezing in. "It huuuuuurts!" My body swayed some more, and I felt him put his hand firmly on my back, steadying me. "What is it?!?"

"It's supposed to hurt, my little toy," he replied calmly as he pushed in deeper. "I'm stretching you out with my finger so that I will be able to fuck you with my dick, just like you asked." His finger squeezed in all the way now, deep in my hole. I whimpered. It hurt so much. I felt so used. Again. Always.

My Master knew what he was doing, though. It hurt, but I didn't tear or anything.

I stood there like that, holding my ankles, while he started to fuck his finger in and out of my boyhole. I felt it squeeze in and out; felt each wider knuckle stretch me as he moved it back and forth, felt my skin get pulled by each motion of his hand. "Uhhhhhhhhh," I moaned, as I felt my body pushed forward. I was crying. And my dick, pointing down between my legs, was rock hard. Even then, I guess I was a little faggot, just like I am now.

I couldn't really think clearly. I'd been hard most of the day, he'd been jerking me, and now I was bent over like this getting finger-fucked and I was hard again and I felt like I needed… something so bad. I didn't even know what. I just needed it.

And then, when he felt like he'd stretched me enough, he decided to have some fun with me. He bent his finger forward and rubbed my prostate.

"AHHHHHHHH!" I cried. It was like nothing I'd ever felt before. My dick jumped between my legs; I think my vision got a little bit red. Whatever I needed it, I needed it so much more right then…

"Oh yeah," he said. "There we go." And he touched it again.

"Muuuuuuh," I whimpered.

One more touch, and then he finally removed his finger. I had sweat all over my body; I felt like I just couldn't control it anymore. I don't know if I even moaned while he pulled it out.

"Stand," he commanded me. Shivering, I lifted myself up. It was hard to keep my feet under me.

He stepped up in front of me, his naked slave. "Very nice," he said. "You have a great hole. And it looks like you got hard, too, my toy." He reached out with his left hand, giving my dick another stroke. I felt my hips buck forward at the touch, and I moaned. I still didn't understand what my own body was doing. I didn't understand his control over it.

I just knew that I wanted something really bad. I wanted to touch myself there… but I knew it wasn't allowed…

He reached his other hand up to my mouth, forefinger out. "Lick it clean," he said.

"I… what… no…" I managed to get out.

He looked at me, holding the finger out. "What is the second rule, my slave?"

I looked back at him. I'd just recited them what felt like eons ago, but it was only a few minutes. I searched my memory. "Um," I said, "the possessions obey one… Master…"

"Say the whole rule."

I looked back at him. "Possessions obey," I said, feeling the words echo in my soul. "I obey every command my Master gives. I am responsible for understanding my Master's commands, and must ask if I do not understand. I will be punished for any failure." I got it right, of course.

"Now," he continued, "lick my finger clean."

And I opened my mouth, stuck out my tongue, and tasted, for the first time (but totally not the last) my own ass juices, plus lube and whatever else was on there. After my first lick I realized I'd messed up. "Yes, Master," I said. And I added a "sorry, Master." And then I kept licking, running my tongue along his finger.

"Suck it clean," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said, feeling my whole body shrinking down as I took his finger from one of my holes to the other. I began to suck on it, aware of every bitter taste in my mouth. Although somehow, my dick didn't go down.

"Good," he said. "Good boy." He removed his finger, and wiped my saliva off on my chest. "Now bend over again."

I couldn't believe I was doing this again. I couldn't believe I was letting it happen again. And yet…

"Yes, Master," I said. I bent down until I was holding my own ankles.

He was behind me again. I felt more lube on my ass. I braced for his finger going back in. But instead, I felt… the tip of something else there. It was the butt plug he'd gotten, of course. Getting me ready for the "main event" to come later.

And then it pushed in.

Oh my God, it was thicker, and it didn't give like his finger did. Now instead of being filled with my Master, I was filled with some other object. The stretching hurt all over again; I cried out, but it didn't make a difference. I just felt my hole get enlarged while something big and rubbery pushed in, and then my ass closed around it, feeling completely filled up by it. I was shaking in pain and need.

"Oh yes," he said, as it closed in. "Excellent. Stand up again."

I did.

"You now have a butt plug, Paul," he said. "That's what I've filled you up with. And you're going to wear it for as long as I want you to. You're not allowed to play with it, or remove it, understood?"

I nodded. "Yes, Master," I replied miserably.

"Good," he said. And he reached around and he did play with it, wiggling it in my ass. I jolted at that… and felt my dick jump as well.

"Perfect," he said. "Now stay."

"Yes, Master," I said, as he walked out the door.

He was gone a couple of minutes. I thought about running, but it didn't feel like the right time. If I ran now and got caught, he'd never leave me alone again. I had to… to take it…

I mean, maybe I was already thinking of myself as his slave. But… c'mon…

Anyway, he came back while I was thinking about it. He was holding some kind of pack, which turned out to be ice cubes in a Ziploc. I found that out when he slammed it against my privates, bringing my erection down so my dick was soft again and even smaller than usual. I was shivering, crying out at the sudden cold. But then a moment later, he brought up a cock cage, which he fitted right on.

My first butt plug. My first cock cage.

I was a little bit doubled over from the cold. "There we go," he said. "Now you're looking like a proper slave." I didn't understand, but he hadn't given me leave to speak, so I just looked back at him, thinking about how cold it had been on my dick.

He grabbed my chin between his fingers and held it. "Your body is my plaything, my little slave," he said. "I get to mold it however I want." And then he reached around, gripped the butt plug, and twisted it within me. I felt sensations flow through my whole body; my dick twitched within its cage, unable to get hard. But it could still hurt. I could still feel that need, that release I wanted so badly.

He twisted the plug again. I moaned. I couldn't help it.

He reached up then, brushed his hand along my cheek. I was still standing there, still a bit hunched over, just taking the abuse. "My little toy," he said, and I felt some warmth in that voice. I pressed my cheek up against his fingers.

He walked away again then, and returned. "Today," he said, "is about learning how to be a slave. Now stand up straight." I straightened myself. And with that, he took the Sharpie he'd grabbed and wrote in huge letters on my chest: "SLAVE."

"You're dressed now," he said, "as you'll be from now on. Collar. Cuffs. Plug. Cage. That is your slave uniform. Sometimes I will have you in briefs, sometimes in other things, but these are the basics, my pet."

I just stood there. What else could I do?

"I'm so happy to bring you in," he said, and he ran his finger along my nipple. It smudged the writing a little bit. I moaned again at the touch. My whole body felt like pinpricks from all the stimulation; I was on edge.

"Let's see," he said. "It's about 2pm now. Past lunchtime, but you were bad and talked back to me. So I think one more hour is in order before you can eat. Come," he said, "stand there."

"Yes… yes, Master," I said pathetically, as I walked to where he'd indicated. I was so hungry. A moment later, I felt clips attach to my wrist cuffs and get locked into place. They were attached to chains, which he ran over to a bar mounted on the ceiling, then down to some hooks on the wall. The result was that my arms were raised above me, held taut by the chain.

"I'll leave you here until food," he said, "or until I need you for something else." He reached around and gave the plug inside of me a shake, moving it around for a solid thirty seconds or so. My needy dick totally filled the cage, pushing against it painfully. I was moaning. And then he left me like that.

Sometime later, he came in again. "Oh," he said as I looked up hopefully, "it's not time yet. I just wanted to have a bit of fun." Again he shook the plug, making me squirm in more pent up sexual frustration. And then he just left. "Good toy," he said, on his way out.

And then finally, he brought me to eat. When he put my food, the same tasteless white goop, in a dog bowl on the floor, I didn't hesitate. I got on all fours and started to lap it up.

I even felt the plug in my ass and it didn't matter.

Damn, he's a good Master.

* * *

This has already gone on way too long, so I guess I should just summarize the rest of the day's training.

He had me exercise outdoors. He did that by tying a long rope to my collar, and having me run laps around a tree he'd tied me to. First clockwise until the rope was too short to keep running, then counterclockwise, unspooling it and respooling it. I was naked, and he was sitting in a chair, relaxing to the side, reading a magazine and watching me. It was humiliating, but no more humiliating than anything else, I guess. I was getting used to it. My balls swinging around kind of hurt, and the plug was making me horny just from running, but yeah. I just did it.

I dunno. It felt like it went on forever. I was hot and sweaty, and really tired, but I had to keep running, because I didn't want to get punished. My balls kept painfully bouncing around while I went around and around that tree. My dick sometimes got hard in the cage because of the plug. Sweat dripped down everywhere. I was panting and exhausted, sleep deprived, tired from everything. And still I ran, because what else could I do?

Finally he told me to stop. "Yes, Master," I said, of course. I stood there, panting, holding my knees, just looking at him. My sweaty hair was matted to my forehead. I needed to be cleaned, but rather than giving me a bath or a shower, he had other ideas.

"Stand up," he commanded. "Arms out."

"Yes, Master," I said. I didn't know what was going on, but I did it, while he walked away… and came back with a garden hose. He let loose with a stream of cold water at my naked body, hosing me down like a car. I was shivering in no time as the stream hit my chest, my face, my legs, even my dick and balls (and I cried out at that). He had me turn around, got my back side, including my plugged ass. Soon I was clean enough, dripping wet on his back lawn. He had me wait there while he got a towel, had me dry off, and then brought me inside. I was still shivering, and I could feel the cool wetness underneath my cuffs and collar.

I was so exhausted by then. I just couldn't think, I was just like a robot, just doing whatever came next. After surviving last night, and the edging and the sucking and the exercise and everything. I just did whatever he said. Which I guess was how he wanted me.

Anyway, he taught me how to make my own food, and I followed the instructions. It was pretty easy, just a powder mix, and then he showed me how to use a blender. I made my "dinner" while he watched, and then he made me get on all fours to eat it while he had his at the table. My tummy grumbled at the smell of his food, but still I ate mine. I don't know if I even felt embarrassed anymore, I was just so tired and broken. I don't think I had a sense of myself anymore.

After eating, Master Mitch put on some Netflix. He called me over and had me sit on the couch next to him, then he put his arm around me and pulled me close. I snuggled up into him, my naked body pressing against his.

I was so tired, once I was sitting and leaning against him I don't think I was even fully conscious. I could feel his thick, rough fingers gripping my body, pressing into my soft belly. He held me tightly, and as my head pressed against his body, I started to doze off.

I don't remember what he was watching, I was just too out of it. Some science fiction movie. I remember shifting around a bit in his grip, trying to get more comfortable. I was still plugged, and it felt huge in me, even though it wasn't that big.

In a weird way, the snuggling felt good. I could hear his heartbeat. I could feel his warmth. I remember pressing tighter against him, and he just casually said "good boy," and I felt embarrassed. I didn't want to like any of this, but the affection felt so good. I didn't want to need it, but I couldn't help myself. I just pressed myself into him while he watched the show, and he held me tight.

I just wanted to stay there. I was worried he'd tie me up again for the night, leave me getting shocks the whole time.

But when the movie ended, he didn't take me back to the punishment room. Instead, he brought me to his bed. You've already read how this goes. A face fuck, all the way down my throat. Kinda standard already, I guess. He had me climb between his hairy spread legs (I just did it), and then I opened my mouth and put it around his dick. I really wasn't thinking anything other than getting it over with. He grabbed my head and started shoving it down, forcing his dick in deep. He pushed it down my throat, stretching it wide, and pulled me in and out along it. He loved the feeling of shoving it all the way down, then pulling me up until it plopped out of my throat, then forcing it all the way back down. I was gasping and in pain, and my drool was flying everywhere, but it didn't matter; he just kept the face fucking going. Just using my body for his pleasure. But it wasn't as bad as the first time, I guess, and when he came, I swallowed. I knew what he wanted, even then.

I was scared of what would happen after, but it wasn't that bad. He cuffed my wrists together, and leashed me to a bedpost, I guess to make sure I didn't escape. Then he had me curl up, and he wrapped his body around mine, his front to my back. I was his small spoon.

He pressed his body against mine, and humped his soft dick against me a little bit, and it happened to jiggle my plug some more, which made me gasp.

"Some nights I'll have you sleep in your cage," he said, "but right now I can't resist your body." He paused a moment. "You were a good slave today," he said. "You had a good day."

I didn't say anything. The bed was comfortable, and I was tired.

"You should thank your Master for a compliment."

"Thank you, Master," I said drowsily, my words slurring. "Sorry, Master."

"Now show me that you've memorized your rules. Say them back."

I groaned, and tried to force myself to think clearly. It was hard, but I did it. Correctly. All twelve of them.

"Good boy," he said, and I breathed a sigh of relief. He wrapped his fingers around a nipple and gave it a little squeeze. "So good," he said.

My body was all goosebumps. I felt my hips hump forward, even though I was caged. I'd still never had a release. My dick was hard in its cage, straining. It had been for a while.

The butt plug felt big in my ass.

Being in a warm bed reminded me of being home. It reminded me of my room, with my kid Sesame Street wallpaper still up because I'd never gotten around to changing it, and my Lord of the Rings poster, and my bookshelf with all my books…

I felt a tear go down my cheek.

I felt my Master's warm arm wrapped around my body, his fingers pressing gently on my skin.

But my dick was hard, and I wondered what that meant. Did it mean I somehow liked it?

No. That wasn't me. That wasn't who I was, I thought.

Eventually, in my exhaustion, I drifted off to sleep in his arms. It was the end of my first full day as a slave at my Master's home.

* * *

So yeah. If you want to know how I became what I am now, how I started to, I guess, see myself as a slave… that was really it. I'll never really forget that day. My first plug, my first cage. When I started, maybe, to kind of see those as part of me.

It's kind of weird to think I was ever different.

I dunno.

And now this is what I am. I mean… ugh. I was so horny when I started writing this after what my Master did to me, and my dick was straining like the whole time in its cage. I really, really hope my Master lets me cum tonight. Holy fuck, I need it so badly.

Like, all right, I've been sitting here writing, right? I mean, I stopped to get dinner for my Master and stuff, of course. But I've been sitting here writing, with my dick in the cage, and I've been like, squirming, and feeling his cum inside me just squelching around the butt plug whenever I move. It's gross and it turns me on and I need to cum so bad.

So yeah. That's me, now.

To Be Continued