As I continued to sit there, bent over with my head in his lap, another smell started to come through, above the whiff of dried piss – something different, half sweaty, half something else. I began to recognise it as that peculiarly “male” smell that you get when you rub your fingers over your balls and in that area at there your legs join. It’s the special male pheromones that the body excretes from all the sweat glands there, I suppose. I read somewhere once that there are more sweat glands per square inch around the genitals than anywhere else
At the same time as my nose was assailed by this, I could continue to feel his hard dick through the fabric, and he began to move my head backwards and forwards over the big bulge in his trousers, so that I became aware that there was “something” there, “something” that I could feel was responding to my presence as my face was pressed into it.
This went on for what seemed like ages, but was probably only for a couple of minutes, and my own dick, poking though the fly of my shorts, got almost painful as it was erecting so hard.
He relaxed the pressure on my head, and after a further short time, I cautiously sat up, to see him smiling at me. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I shook my head, and he went on “Sit there…”, then “Gary – my coat and trousers….”
He stood up and Gary rushed over to take his jacket off him, which he placed almost reverently on the back of a chair, then bent down to undo Master Brett’s belt, then undid his zip and, helped him slide his brightly-polished brown leather shoes off, and to ease him out of his trousers. All this seemed so effortless and normal, that I knew that Master Brett must be used to having another guy help his dress and undress – the only time that had ever happened to me was when I was trying on a fancy tux for a wedding, and the sales assistant had tried to help me: because I was so unused to it, I almost stumbled! Master Brett then undid his silk tie for himself and tossed it to Gary, who carefully put it with the rest of the clothes, Master Brett opened the top button of his shirt, and came and sat down beside me again.
“Now, Steve, we can get down to business without all that heavy suit on. Come on, boy….”
His hand was on top of my head again, pulling me down towards his crotch. I didn’t want to do it, but the pressure was so firm, so insistent, and I was so concerned about the prospect of another visit to the horse, that ultimately I just did as his hands were directing me to.
The tails of his shirt were half open, and as my head lowered I could see his plain cotton undershorts looming, with a faint yellow stain on them. As my nose was pushed down into the thinner fabric, I now got the full strength of Master Brett’s male scent – there was no way of avoiding it, and Master Brett held my head down so that my lungs filled with it.
“Good boy, Steve”, he crooned, “Take it in. Get to know the scent of a man, get to enjoy that special smell that us guys have. And can you feel my dick, Steve…. It wants to play….”
Indeed I could feel his dick – it was rock hard, under the thin sea-island cotton, tenting the front of his undershorts out towards me. The pressure on my head was now making me move my face right over it – sometimes one cheek, sometimes the other, and sometimes my nose and lips. With my hands cuffed behind my neck, what little hope I might have entertained at resisting, or even doing anything at all, had vanished.
He let me sit up again, and I saw him still smiling. Somehow, as it hadn’t been as bad as I thought it would be, my worry abated slightly and I even managed a weak grin in return. I mean, when someone’s smiling at you, its difficult not to smile back, isn’t it?
“I think my dick needs to come out to play, Steve, like yours is, and Gary’s has…. Look at Gary, Steve – he’s a lot more excited by all of this than you are…”
I looked at the young slave’s dick that was jutting out from his shorts, and it had now climbed to an almost impossible angle, way above horizontal. In the soft lights of the room I could see a bead of pre-cum, glistening like a jewel, in his piss slit.
“What will it take to turn you on like that, Steve? To produce a special token like that to show how much you’re enjoying the scene?
It was a rhetorical question, of course, so I just sat there, mute, watching as he reached into his shorts and freed his dick. It wasn’t as long as mine, but, possibly, a little thicker. It sat there, poking out from the snowy white cotton, its head a darker shade of pink than the pale shaft. I stared at in fascination – I mean, although you see other guys’ dicks in the showers and stuff at the gym, you don’t ever see them erect, do you? Most guys, like me, go to huge lengths to stop themselves having an erection when other guys can see, and so other than in pictures, and in shots on porno movies when the actor is getting ready to fuck the woman, I’d never seen an erect dick other than my own.
“Right, Steve. Are you ready for your first taste of dick? It is the first taste, isn’t it – you weren’t joking, with all that stuff about never having been with another guy?”
“Yes, sir, but…”
“Steve, I’ve warned you! No ‘buts’! Now, just take it nice and easy. I want you to take it nice and slowly… Just put your face down, and put out your tongue, and lick my dick, ever so gently. No need to put it in your mouth – yet! Just a nice long, slow lick of the head and the shaft, and get right down to the base, so your nose is pushing into my balls. I want to feel that tongue of yours all over my dick, and that nice warm nose nestling in my soft ball sac…. OK?”
“Please, sir, don’t…”
“Come on, Steve, you’ll enjoy it once you’ve lost those silly inhibitions….”
His hand was on top of my head again, and I knew I couldn’t resist. Ever so slowly my head went down, and his dick loomed larger and larger in front of me. My head stopped, but the pressure of his hand remained there, calm and steadying.
“Come on, Steve… Tongue out…”, he whispered.
There is something very different about the dick compared to other parts of the body, isn’t there? The way it’s warm, like other parts of your skin, but it’s also hard in a way that muscles just aren’t. I now find it fascinating the way a guy’s dick can be so ramrod solid one minute, and yet all soft and floppy the next. It also smells differently, I always think, and tastes a bit different, too – it doesn’t matter how much the guy has washed, a few minutes of having his dick lying there against his balls, surrounded with the sweat and scent glands, and it takes on that very special taste, that essence of manhood that’s really not quite like anything else. I mean, ordinary skin is just salty and an asshole, well…. But I’m getting ahead of myself, as I didn’t really get to the point of being able to make these comparisons until much later.
Hesitantly and tentatively, I put out my tongue and let it play on Master Brett’s dick head – as I realised that it was somehow exciting and different, I got bolder, and ran it down his shaft. I’d thought that I’d find the whole thing utterly revolting, but I didn’t – to my surprise, it actually felt good. I liked the sleek hardness of the shaft, the way that the thick flange of the head made for a different texture…. And as I did as he’d instructed and buried my nose in his ball sac, I got a different feeling altogether as his pubic hairs pressed into my cheeks.
I heard myself making mild noises of enjoyment – a kind of low moaning that somehow complemented the slurping my tongue was now making on his shaft, which had become sticky and slimy with my saliva.
I went on and on, until I heard him say, gently, “Good boy, Steve! Get up now.”
I raised my head and saw him smiling still. “Very good, so far. But it gets a bit more difficult from here on in, as you’ve got to take the whole shaft into your mouth. I want those lips closed around the shaft, riding up and down it, with your tongue teasing the piss slit…. But I’m not sure I can trust you yet. Normally, we’d have had a little jerking off and so on by now, but we’ve skipped ahead, as you know, until those scars have gone away. I think I can trust you, but better safe than sorry – slaves have been known to bite their masters’ dicks, you know: and when your dick is right in the slave’s mouth, there’s not much you can do to stop him – even if you prod him, it’s too late.”
“So I think I’ll forgo the pleasure of feeling that nice mouth of yours starting to really please me, ands let you suck at the young Gary here instead – slaves are more reluctant to bite their fellows, after all. And, even if you did bit his dick right off, I could always buy another slave after all, whereas I couldn’t buy myself a new dick. But it seems a waste just to watch, and not have any of the fun…. Gary, come and sit here….”
Master Brett pushed himself right back into the huge couch, and Gary slipped his tiny slave shorts off, then went and sat between Master Brett’s legs,. I wondered how it felt for both Master Brett and Gary to have Master Brett’s thick, hard dick pressing up into the slave’s young, slender ass as he sat there, and to my amazement I felt my own dick jerk, as if it was really excited and about to cum.
“Right, Steve. On your knees, in front of Gary….”
I knelt there, looking at the young guy’s huge prick jutting out so proudly in front of my face. The tiny pearl of pre-cum that I’d seen before had now become a large slick, running across the dark pink of his dick head, and disappearing down underneath.
“Right, Steve – why don’t you start by reaching out with the tip of your tongue and licking up that delicious nectar that’s already leaking out of Gary?”
I bent forward, and a new smell now assailed me – as well as Gary’s man scent, I got that whiff of cum, that unmistakable ammoniacal smell . Look, don’t get me wrong – I don’t go around smelling my own cum or stuff like that! But when you’re young, and you have your first ejaculations, you always experiment, don’t you? I hadn’t been able to resist smelling my cum when I first shot a load, and ever after you do get a faint whiff of it, don’t you, when you’re putting a T or shorts into the washer that you’ve used as a cum rag, or when you go to toss the toiled tissue away, if you use that.
I reached out with my tongue, and was really surprised when all I got was a kind of salty taste – not at all like the smell. It’s funny how cum is like that, isn’t it? You expect it to have a really distinctive flavour, given its smell, but it’s really just faintly salt, faintly sweet, verging on the bland. I started to lick his shaft, slowly, as I’d done to Master Brett, and was making good progress – Gary was evidently enjoying it, too, as his dick just wouldn’t keep still – it was jerking around, as if in response to real excitement, and I had to really try to keep it near my mouth, as it danced around, sometimes brushing my lips, and sometimes stroking my cheeks: funny, that – a dick against your cheeks feels quite different to anything else, doesn’t it?
But then I heard Master Brett say “We’re going to have to cut this short, Steve, as I’ve just noticed the time. And I don’t have a lot of time tomorrow, either, and we need to get you on stream quickly, so we’re going to have to speed up. So get your mouth around it, and start to take it down.”
I put the head of his dick between my lips, and tentatively ran them up and down his shaft a little – not much, as having Gary’s big dick in my mouth felt so strange, and if I tried to get too much in, it started to make me want to gag.
“No, Steve, I want to see all of Gary buried in you, with your nose right up against him.”
I tried to splutter “I can’t – I’ll choke”, but Gary’s dick was an effective bar to intelligible words, and nothing came out.
“So, Steve, I’m going to use the handles to pull you right down on to him.”
Reaching around Gary’s young slim body, Master Brett took hold of the leather handles that had been attached to my collar, and started to gently tug on them to move my head ever closer to Gary, forcing his dick deeper and deeper into my mouth. I stated to panic – the tip of Gary’s big thick dick touched the back of my throat, and that triggered the choking and vomiting reflex. I tried to shout, tried to make them stop, but there was absolutely nothing I could do. I thrashed my arms from side to side as best I could, but they just banged uselessly into Gary’s thighs. I couldn’t get away, I wanted to vomit, I needed air, as his dick was blocking my throat….
And then Master Brett let go, and I pulled my head back. I knelt there, choking, gagging and with the tears that had broken out during that dreadful experience streaming down my face. There in front of me was Gary’s dick, covered in my spit and mucus, and then I heard the dreadful words from Master Brett “Go down on it again, boy. I want you to take that dick all the way down again….”
“Please, sir, no…”
“Yes, Steve. You’ve got to learn how to really take a dick all the way down. Most of our clients are not as heroically hung as young Gary here, but every man always wants his dick swallowed completely. It’s only a matter of technique – you can learn to control all that gagging and choking, if you try. Now, as I said, I haven’t much time….. Open your mouth, boy!”
He was tugging at the handles as he said this, and my collar was forcing me forwards towards Gary’s dick. It touched my lips, and I refused to open them. I felt something underneath me, and the next moment my mouth flew open as I screamed – Master Brett had brought one of his socked feet up and kicked my balls, as they hung there unprotected. With my mouth open like that there was nothing to stop Gary’s dick going in, and I heard Master Brett say “You fucking slaves – just don’t try it on, boy! I’ve got more tricks like that to help train slaves who think they can disobey. Now, just do as you’re told.”
He was pulling on the handles again now, and Gary’s dick was again causing me to choke and gag. I’d have done anything to make it stop, to get it out. Master Brett was obviously right not to risk his dick at this stage – if it had been him doing this to me, I’d have bitten down on it, done anything to make it go away. I’d probably have bitten straight through it. But I couldn’t do that to young Gary, could I? It wasn’t his fault, after all, that he was doing this – he was just being used as a tool, by Master Brett.
I knew I was going to die. My air was cut off. My whole body was racked with huge heaves in my stomach, as I tried to vomit. The thrashing of my arms became more and more intense. My body stopped kneeling and went out from under me, and I realised I was thrashing around, like a fish on the end of a line, held on the “hook” of Gary’s dick and the handles attached to my collar. And then he let me go again, and I half sprawled there, wheezing, choking, gagging, with tears and snot pouring down my face. My chest was heaving, as I sucked in air.
“I think that’s enough for one day, don’t you, Steve?”, Master Brett said softly. “Gary – up off my dick: it likes your warm ass, but I’ve got work to do and haven’t got time for a proper fuck. And Steve – kneel in front of me again, slave!”
I did as I was told, still breathing heavily. But at least the tears and snot had mostly dried up. I looked up, and Master Brett was smiling down at me. “Just rest there easily, Steve…. Now…..”
He started to jerk himself off, and I watched, fascinated, as his hand slid up and down his dick. This was another first for me, too – I mean, who jerks off in front of another guy? It must be different if you do it in front of slaves, I suppose. His hands got faster, and I could tell from the way his body arched slightly and his eyes screwed up that he was about to cum. “Shut your eyes, Steve”, he shouted.
I wondered what he was on about, but did as I was told, and felt something warm splatter all over my face. I heard that unmistakable gasp of pure joy as a guy cums, and Master Brett said, above his heavy breathing, “OK, Steve, open up now…. I’m not ashamed of jerking off in front of you, as you’re only a slave; I don’t mind you looking at it, but it’s not a good idea to get cum into your eyes….”
The warmth I’d felt was Master Brett’s cum – I realised it was all over my face, and was trickling slowly down my cheeks. I could smell it in my nostrils, as it was everywhere. Master Brett leaned forward, and now ran his hands over my face and head, smearing and spreading his cum all over me. “There, Steve”, he said. “I’ve marked you properly as my property now. Breathe it in, boy. Take in the smell of your owner’s cum. Now….”
He leaned forward again, and pushed his cum-covered index finger towards my lips. Here, boy… Good boy, take my finger, and clean it… Suck your owner’s cum off it, boy….”
I don’t know what it is, but somehow sucking a man’s finger, a strong man’s finger, the finger of a man who has you in his power, is somehow very demeaning and, at the same time, very satisfying. As his finger probed my mouth, I was almost greedy in the way that I licked at it with my tongue, caressed it with my lips, and moved my head backwards and forwards, suckling it as if it was coated in the most delicious food ever. Master Brett put his other hand onto my head, and I could feel him cleaning the cum off, in my hair. “Good boy, Steve…. Good boy… That’s the way to show proper respect for your owner….”
This sublime event only went on for a minute or so, though, as Master Brett abruptly withdrew his finger and got to his feet. I carried on kneeling there, my arms still cuffed to my collar, as Gary fussed around helping him dress – easing Master Brett’s dick back into his undershorts, holding his trousers so they could be “stepped into”, and even tying his necktie. When he was back to being smooth and immaculate, as he had been wen I had first seen him, Master Brett said “OK, Gary – release Steve, get dressed, then take him off – I won’t need you for the rest of the day. Show him around the place, and introduce him to the other guys. Make sure you’re both well fed – you can have an extra ration, as you did well today – but I want you both to sleep in a close confinement cage tonight.”
“Steve”, he went on, “Listen to what Gary says – we’ll carry on your training tomorrow, and perhaps he’ll be able to give you a few tips. Now you heard me tell Gary you’re to sleep in a close confinement cage tonight, and I want no argument or dispute about it when the time comes! I think your biggest hang-up is that basically you’re body shy – although you’ve got a beautiful, toned body that most men would die for, you’re almost ashamed of it. The quicker you get used to the idea that a man’s body is a joyful thing, the better… And the easier the rest of your training will be. So tonight, instead of sleeping in a bed, I’m putting you in a cage, with Gary. You won’t be able to avoid being in close – no, intimate – contact with him all night long. I want you to get used to the feel of another man’s skin against you, to have to press close to another guy all night long so you feel his breath, smell his little farts, know the touch of his dick against you as it goes through its nightly cycle of erections, understand how another guy can move around constantly in bed…. In short, start to experience all the things that you’ll have to be used to if you’re going to spend all night with clients. The only difference is that Gary is young, enthusiastic, and has a really nice body: most of your clients will be old, and in poor shape generally! Still, it’s the principle that counts, isn’t it?”
As I knelt there, Gary fiddled with my collar and cuffs, and the next moment my hands were free. “Get up, Steve”, Master Brett said, and I climbed to my feet. I just couldn’t help running my hands over my face and my hair – it was still all sticky from Master Brett’s cum, and my hands got a thin coating of it, as well. I felt myself starting to blush, at the thought of being in that state.
“I’ve got work to do – scoot off, you two”, Master Brett said airily, as if what has just happened had been the most normal thing in the world. I wanted to say so much to him, to complain, protest, question…. But this wasn’t the time, as he’d made a dismissive gesture and was turning to the screen on my desk. I was going over to interrupt him, but sensing my movement, Gary took me by the arm and led me towards the door.
“Gary, let go…”, I hissed.
“No, Steve. You heard Master Brett. I’ve got to show you around… Please come along, else he’ll punish me, as well as you.” From the way he said this, I could tell that he was scared of the prospect of being punished, and I began to wonder how bad it could be: the four cane marks on my butt were still causing me a lot of grief, and I wondered how bad the punishments could be, if the threat of them had this effect on Gary, who seemed to be very well behaved, almost docile.
Master Brett had already picked up the phone and was speaking on it as we went out of the door into the corridor, and Gary closed it behind us, very carefully and gently so that there was no sound. He seemed relieved to be out of Master Brett’s presence, and almost visibly breathed a sigh of relief.
“Sorry about that, Steve”, he began. “But Master Brett ordered my dick into your mouth…. You know that, don’t you?”
“Sure, Gary, it wasn’t your fault…”
“Not that I wouldn’t like my dick in your mouth, Steve…. Hey, I really like you, you know? You’re just my type – a few years older, strong, hairy, kind of ‘hard’ looking…. You really turn me on. I’m really looking forward to getting to know you better, tonight….”
“Hey, forget it! I like guys as buddies, but definitely not for sex…”
“Steve, you’ve got a real problem, if you don’t mind me saying so! How on earth can you like a guy as a buddy, and not want to have sex with him? That’s the only way you really get to know another guy – when you’re lying next to him in bed, after you’ve both fucked.”
“No… You go out to bars, to parties, on fishing trips… Whatever.”
“Steve, you get closer to another guy when you’re in bed together, feeling each others bodies, than you ever do in a year of fishing trips. But don’t take my word for it – you’ll find out, soon enough. You don’t have nay choice, after all, as Master Brett has ordered us to spend the night in the same close confinement cage…”
“What the fuck’s that?”
“You’ll soon find out…. Now…..”
We had come up to another of the big wooden doors, but this one had a discrete sign on it, the words picked out in a modern script on an elegant piece of polished brass, “Associates only beyond this point, please. If our clients would like to watch associates at work, please return to reception, who will direct you to the viewing gallery.”
Gary grinned, as he saw me reading it. “Just like a big store, or something, isn’t it, calling us ‘associates’ – always call a spade a spade, as the old saying goes, or perhaps I should say, always call an indentured servant a slave!” He grinned at me as he said this, and I couldn’t help but like him – after all, it wasn’t his fault that he’d had to treat me like that.
We went through the door and the whole ambience changed. The thick, rich carpets disappeared in favour of thermoplastic tiles that now felt hard against my trainers after the carpet; the subdued lighting was replaced by the utilitarian strip lighting common to all modern office buildings, and the walls were now just plain plaster, painted a dull cream.
Gary opened another door, and we could almost have been in my gym back home – the same rows of exercise machines and big mirrors on the walls, and that same smell of stale sweat. The only differences were that all the guys in there working out were really working out hard – you could see the seat on all of them; that all the men were in fantastic shape, and handsome, unlike most of the guys at my gym, who really needed to be there; and that instead of the range of designer tops, workout shorts, track suits, and the like, all these guys were, like me and Gary, just wearing the tiny shorts. I could thus clearly see their bodies as they worked away, and, of course, their tattoos supplied me with their names.
As we had entered, and we became noticed, the workouts stopped. “Hey, guys”, Gary called out, “This is Steve – a new guy, who’s just starting ten years….”
There was a chorus of “Hi, Steve”, a couple of the nearest guys reached out off their machines to shake my hand, but everyone soon resumed working.
“Your use of the exercise machines is monitored”, Gary explained, “You have to put in so many hours, or else…”
“…you’re punished”. I completed the sentence for him.
“Right, Steve – how did you know that?”
“Oh, just extrapolating from the way that other things around here seem to work. Tell me, though, why are all the slaves called short names, like Ted, Brad, Dave, Joe, Bill, Tom, Paul, Rod…. Me and Frank over there… We seem to have the longest names…”
“Oh, that’s easy, Steve. If you were usually known as Steven, they’d shorten it to Steve anyway. If you were called something like Humphrey, they’d simply give you a shorter name. They don’t want more than five characters, or else the tattoos don’t look as good: five nice big letters is better than a lot more smaller ones, for really emphasising your front and back.”
“You can’t be serious…”
“Sure, Steve, why not?”
Well, there was no answer to that, was there? I mean, fancy renaming a guy, just so that his name would fit across his back!
We left the gym through a plain door, and were in a big shower area. Eight shower heads along one wall, tiles all over the place so that there was so defined “showers” area in particular, and, to my shock, four lavatory bowls on the opposite wall with absolutely no cubicles or any thing around them. The third wall had a row of eight was basins, and there was a small set of razors and toothbrushes at the end of it.
“Clean-up space”, Gary said, rather unnecessarily. Guys going out on assignments get priority to use the showers, if there’s a rush. Those hoses hanging down are the enema hoses, as you must go out clean inside. And you must shave before an assignment, even if you shaved earlier in the day – especially a guy like you, with a wiry, tough beard: I can see the shadow forming even now.”
“So the clients don’t like a swarthy guy, then?” “No, stupid! A lot of men are turned on by hairy bodies, and I guess that’s one of the reasons by Master Brett and Master Jed bought you. I like a body like yours, actually”, he went on, grinning slightly at me, as if this piece of information would in some way flatter me. “But unless you’re really cleanly shaven, then when you come to suck a guy’s dick, or if he likes to play, by slapping his dick around our face, or even just rubbing it up and down your cheeks, it can get painful for him if you’ve got stubble. And if he doesn’t enjoy it, that might make him complain… And, believe me, you don’t want that. Master Brett is fanatical about winning the President’s award for good service again., as he told you.”
“Oh, stop bullshitting – I just don’t believe our President is interested in guys having sex properly!”
“Why not, Steve? After all, our Constitution is all about life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness… If your dick’s sore because you’ve been scraping it on the stubble of some hunk, then you’re certainly not happy… I think the President is doing a good job at trying to enforce the Constitution!”
“Oh yes? What about the ‘liberty’ bit?”
“Well, would you rather be an indentured servant for ten years, living a healthy, active life, or locked up in a tiny jail cell for the rest of your life? They used to do that to criminals in the old days, you know… I think I’ve got a lot more liberty as a slave, than I would have as a prisoner n some sort of penitentiary.”
“Oh, come on….”
“Well, you believe what you want, Steve, but I’ll believe what I want.”
“One last question, Gary – where do I get my towel and razor and toothbrush and stuff from?”
“Well, they’re there, on all the basins – look.”
“But which one belongs to who?” “Oh, you just use which ever one’s lying around. We don’t get our own stuff – we are supposed to be slaves, remember? It’s like the shorts – you get a fresh pair every morning from the common supply.” “You mean I have to share toothbrushes and razors and clothes and towels with the other guys?”
“Yes, why not?”
“Well… It’s not…. Well, ‘nice’ to share those things with other people.”
“Oh come on, Steve… Don’t be so stupid! You’re going to enjoy most of those guys’ bodies and have their dicks up your ass, and yours up theirs, as you get trained – so what’s the problem in treating them like real buddies, and just sharing everything?”
“Look, Gary, it’s not right…”
“Hey, Steve, this is the working day, OK? And slaves are supposed to keep social chit-chat to a minimum when they’re working. You can talk as much as you like in bed, if you’re not on duty, but keep it to a minimum now, OK? And Master Brett and Master Jed treat us pretty well, ad they don’t like to hear criticism of the system…”
He looked around almost as if he was fearful, and then I saw the TV cameras and microphones in every corner of the room.
“Are they watching?”
“Of course, Steve. Clients waiting can flip through the channels and watch us working out, or getting ready for them”
“But the lavatories…”
“So? I think you’ve forgotten that you’re a slave, and that a slave has no need of privacy. I mean, you wouldn’t want to watch a man crapping, would you? But a slave, well, it’s…. Different. Anyway, never mind the cameras – up there, look, is the viewing gallery. The clients can walk along up there and look down at the gym, showers and our sleeping area, which is next door…”
He led the way through into the next room, and it was a bit like a barracks room that you see in the movies about soldiers and guys like that – rows of single beds, quite close together, lined each side of the room. The only difference was that there were no lockers or anything- just the beds. Then I realised why: a slave has no possessions, after all, so has no need of private storage space. I glanced up and saw that the viewing gallery extended here, too, as Gary had said – was there to be no privacy, nowhere I could be alone? I just couldn’t imagine living my life totally exposed to others like this. I mean, a guy needs some private time to himself, doesn’t he? Even if it’s only to take a crap by himself, or lie in bed and jerk himself off. How was I going to cope with this total lack of any form of private “space” for myself?
“Well, that’s it, for our living space”, Gary said as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Just the gym, showers and sleeping quarters. It’s quite compact for twenty five of us, but some guys are always out on assignments so it’s not too bad most of the time. There are other rooms, of course, but those are on the ‘client’ side – specialised viewing rooms, so a new client can inspect slaves he’s picked out from the on-line catalogue, and the pleasure rooms, for when the client wants to use the slave here, rather than have him do an out call to the hotel. You’ll see all those in due course, but that’s all there is for routine day-to-day living. So, after all that, we ought to go and work out – with all these special duties, I’m falling behind a bit in the hours I have to do.
To be continued …
