Out into the World
After all the build-up, I felt there was now a sense of an anti-climax. I sat at my desk not knowing what to do. There was not much point working on a new project as I had planned, since would not be here to see it through. I could hear colleagues start to leave their offices and saying good bye. Gradually the office became quite and I was alone. Somehow, I did not want to leave and spend an evening alone. After all I was someone else's possession now. I was growing more distant from my friends so I had no real wish to see them either. If I am a slave, I thought, perhaps I had better find out what my master wanted of me. Then i reflected on that. Maybe slaves are not meant to take the initiative. So I turned off my computer. Then putting on my parka, I locked my office door and left.
My feelings of deflation followed me on to the train home and, having arrived at the station, rather than hurrying back to the flat, I meandered back wondering what was going to be in store for me.
I climbed the flights of stairs to my flat, turned the key in the door and opened it. I was half expecting, half hoping to see Scott there. But the flat was just as I had left in the morning when I went to work. So as I was instructed, I changed out of my work clothes into more casual, sporting ones that Scott had selected for me. I had become quite accustomed to the routine. Then I lit a cigarette, inhaled and then expelled the smoke in a thin stream of smoke. As I looked up, I could see my reflection in the mirror on the back of my cupboard door. I certainly looked the part; the part Scott wanted me to play. But did I really sound the part. Scott had obviously gone to a major public school and spoke with a very posh, upper class accent. I came from a striving middle-class family from the Midlands so I sounded just like that: middle class with the vowel sounds that typified the region from which I came. "Perhaps, I should sound a bit more Estuary", I thought to myself. "If Scott is going to transform me, perhaps I should help it along." First, I have to say it is not very difficult because I heard a London accent around me all day long and it is very catching and requires very little adjustment, except the elimination of typically more northern vowel sounds. It is essentially a lazy way of speaking. The distinctives are the 't' in the end and middle of words which is dropped: talen' for talent and li'le for little; the 'l' at the end of words so that final turns into finew; the 'h' in front of some words but not all; the 'g' being dropped from words ending with 'ing'; the occasional 'f' for 'th' in words like anyfing for anything; and the elision of polysyllabic words or words that go together, such as treas'ry for treasury. and i'n'it for isn't it. Not much to remember and it came quite naturally.. Actually it was catching and once I had embarked on it I found it difficult and then impossible to stop. It also gave an interest when I went out alone for a beer or shopping, I could practice my new way of speaking and sounding out on strangers without inhibition. I determined to do this at work too.
After a few days, I gave a trial run of my new way of speaking to my mother. on a call home She noticed immediately and was obviously not impressed. "You sound awfully London, darling", she commented after I had spoken a few words.
"Do I?", I 'adn't really no'iced. I feew I'm speakin' just the way as I norm'ly do. Maybe it's just bein' in Lon'on for more than a year that does't", I replied.. Afterwards I felt, just like the tracksuit test, I had passed that test and mum would slowly accept that her Coventry lad was turning into a Londoner.
What was rather disturbing was, having made a commitment, apparently for life, to Scott, I had heard absolutely nothing from him. I was a slave with a very lackadaisical master. And as the days passed, I thought less and less about the commitment I had made and carried on as normal. However, all the time I was worrying what I would do to earn a living once I had left my present job. Obviously I could not afford to live without a salary coming in. I know Scott had mentioned something about a bookshop but had then done nothing about it as the days in my present job were being frittered away. While I fretted about it, I also thought that Scott would come up with something, even if it wasn't the bookshop. After all he owned me now and with ownership comes some responsibilities. Conversely, if I was now owned, I would simply do what I was told. I didn't think Scott would allow me just to perish in some homeless shelter.
So, when I returned home more than a week after making my commitment, I was surprised to see Scott sitting in my flat waiting for me.
"Wha' took ya so fuckin' long, Scott? I though' you'd be in fuckin' contac' much sooner than this."
"I've been tied up. We have been very busy at work with a new book launch. You should understand that", he replied quite dismissively. "Why, did you miss me?"
"'Course I fuckin' did. I was expectin' ac'ion and I got nofing." [By the way I will not go on with trying to write how I speak phonetically, because it is a pain to read. I will confine it to the occasional word, once Scott notices.]
"What have you been up to?" he asked.
"Nofin' much, jus' moochin aroun'. I jus' didn't fink that I would 'ave much to come back to", I replied.
"My God, you are getting chavvier by the minute. I think I like it, you little oik", he said smiling. "Yes, I like it. Before long no one will really recognise you. That's the plan. Come here and take off your glasses." As I approached him, he grasped me in his arms, leant over me and put his lips against mine. I had never really kissed before in any passionate way. As he began to kiss me, his tongue started to explore my mouth and his lips nibbled at mine. All I could do was to mimic his actions and hope that he did not think that I was quite as inexperienced as I was. From my mouth, he began kissing me all over my face" my eyes, my cheeks, my ears, my neck, nibbling me with his lips, his tongue exploring and tasting me and his hands caressing me. I followed suit. I was simply carried away with this. I felt protected and loved. I wanted to give him everything I had. I had never felt this way before.
Then whispering in my ear, he said "Why don't you take your clothes off, so I can have a really good look at you". I readily complied with his request. Standing naked in front of him I felt defenseless. Everything was a blur. I was acutely aware I was completely hairless; my cock stiffened as far as it could within the confines of its cage but as it was so firmly sheathed in a cage which I was unable to remove so it hung down due to its weight. "Show me your hands", he asked. I held my hands palm down in front of him. "Good, you are keeping your nails short as I asked. Now turn around". At his request I turned around. With a chuckle, he twisted my butt plug. I squirmed a little. "Like that? I bet you do, you little faggot? Are you my little faggot?"
"Yes, sir. I am", I answered and then kneeling before him, I unbuckled his belt and undid his flies. He was completely erect; I was not being a complete failure, I thought. As I had done before I started licking his erect dick as tantalisingly as I could and then taking it inside my mouth, I drove it deeper and deeper in, rhythmically moving it in and out, my lips tensed around it as I massaged his testicles and the base of his penis. It seemed to be working. He then said "I think you should be a little more vigorous, my little faggot." with that he grasped my head in his hands and started forcing his massive cock down my throat, pushing it much further down so I was close to choking half the time and gasping for breath. He was relentless as his pace quickened. "That's more like it, Kev, don't you think?" I was incapable of answering. Then the rhythm started to slow until it came to a complete stop. Slowly he extracted his cock. "I have a better idea, turn around." Naturally I did what I was told. I could here him fiddling around in his manbag for something but I knew I was not supposed to turn my head around. Somehow without ever being instructed to do so, I knew instinctively to simply obey what he said and not to presume anything. I waited for instructions. In the absence of order I stood passively, eyes to the ground, hands behind my back. I could then feel the butt plug being slowly pulled out. By now I had become used to a butt plug of this size and it slipped out reasonably easily. Immediately it had been extracted, I felt an immediate relief. I was free of it and my buttocks gyrated in approval. "I think I had better get the next size up, don't you?" I didn't answer. "Don't you?", he repeated more loudly. "Yes, sir", I answered in a whisper. "That's better, now stand still."
The relief was short lived. Standing still as I had been ordered, I felt his hand starting first to lube my arse and then his forefinger exploring what was with in. As he started to stimulate my prostate, it felt slightly uncomfortable at first but I could sense underneath the initial strangeness that there was a fantastic sensational feeling trying to emerge. As he continued the discomfort seemed to diminish and the arousing sensation increased. Then I felt his second finger work its way into my arse. He had stopped stimulating me and was working to open up my crack. I tightened. "Relax", he spoke softly in my ear, "Relax." I tried to do what I had been asked but I failed as my buttocks reflectively tightened. This did not seem to worry Scott at all as he worked his third finger in and stretched the opening further. This time it hurt. "Fuckin' 'ell", I gasped. "Shh. Calm down", came the reply. "Perhaps this will help?" With that he extracted his fingers and fiddled for something else from his bag. "This should do the trick", he said as he unscrewed a small bottle and put it under my nose. "Breathe in", he instructed, "No really breathe in." I did as I was told inhaling what smelled like a paint solvent. As I was ordered I continued to breathe the fumes in more and more deeply. The reaction was almost instantaneus. I immediately started to feel a little giddy and light headed. A feeling of euphoria swept over me. As this was happening I could feel his dick starting to press forward. Unlike before my buttocks did not tighten, I was much more relaxed. "That's better, you are going to enjoy this". As he said this he trust forward harder, holding my hips firmly so that I could not move away. He trust again and this time he had penetrated me. As he entered me I felt a searing pain. He must have torn the skin but he was well inside by now. With steady thrusts he drove deeper and deeper in me as he moved back and forth, nearly extracting his dick and pushing it further in to me. As the pain from his initial entry subsided, I started to enjoy what was happening to me. It was a fantastic sensation having someone inside of you; violent but stimulating and arousing at the same time. Instinctively my hand went down to rub my own penis to enhance the pleasure, forgetting momentarily it was sheathed to stop me doing just that. So instead I moved my arms backwards to hold Scott closer to me. By now he had picked up the tempo and was really attacking my arse with all the strength he could muster. The harder he went at it, the more pleasurable it became. I was being wasted and I liked it. Eventually he came, I could feel his jizz starting to dribble out as he slowed down and then started to go flaccid. In the violence of his ejaculation I had not realised that I had come too and strings of cum were hanging off the cage and falling to the floor. Scott put his hands on my shoulders and turned me around.
"You can't have hated that too much could you", he said smiling and looking down at the mess in my cage and on the floor. "We will have to find something that will stop you making such a mess", he said with a wicked smile. I smiled but said nothing. "Well that's your cherry popped for good." He laughed. "You had better get used to it as you are going to be trashed quite a lot from now on. I can think of many of my friends who would appreciate that backside of yours. I think you are going to enjoy being a faggot. What do you say, bumboy?"
"Yes, sir" I replied quietly. In two minds what to think. On the one hand I would have to say that I wanted more, on the other I was not sure of the implications of being a bumboy in everybody's eye. It did not do much for my self esteem being essentially a piece of meat but there was no way out of it now. The decision had been made without me fully appreciating the implications..
"Why don't you clean up and put your clothes on", he replied.
I did exactly what had been told. By the time I emerged from the shower and started dressing, Scott had left. He left no message. It was too early in the evening to just stay at home so I decided to go out and have a drink or two. As I walked down the stairs I could feel the bruising of my arse. It was still painful so I had a reminder for the next couple of days how I had lost my virginity.
I returned to the flat earlier than I had anticipated as I now had a splitting headache which was not improved by being in a noisy pub. Almost as soon as I had closed my front door my phone pinged. It was a message from Scott. "Hi bumboy! Great session. Be on standby when I need you. Keep your phone on. Understood?" "Yes, sir", came my reply. I sat back on my bed and lit another cigarette. I seemed to be smoking all the time. I inhaled deeply. "Well it's wha' ya wan'ed, mate", I reflected. "Yes, it was, exactly wha' i wan'ed." I drew on my cigarette again and smiled as a feeling of satisfaction washed over me. "Exac'ly wha' I wan'ed", I repeated. I did not know where the journey would lead but I was on the path I wanted to be on.
A few days later on my way to work Scott texted me. "Meet me at my office at eleven tomorrow so you can meet the owner of the bookshop where you will be working. By the way I will deliver something to your flat. Read the instructions and follow them. Understood?" I tapped out my reply: "Yes, sir. See you tomorrow." They way he had written it, there did not seem to be any doubts but that I had the job not that I knew what it involved or what I was going to be paid. That evening when I returned home there was a package on the table. I opened it to find two large glass jars of pills but nothing to say what they were. The written instructions were brief: "Take one of each of the tablets in the morning and one each oi them in the evening WITHOUT FAIL. Understood? Scott." I understood and confirmed this to Scott by text to which he replied "WITHOUT FAIL". He didn't usually use capitals so it must have been important so I placed both jars on my bedside table with a tumbler of water so I wouldn't forget.
The next morning I walked over to Scott's office and he told me that we would drive over to his old friend Peregrine (who's called Peregrine, I ask you?), who runs a well-established bookshop in Wimbledon. As we drove along, Scott turned to me and said, "God you're a scruffy nerd. But it suits you." I knew that I was but it was hardly my fault. My trousers were shapeless because I was forbidden to press them. My shoes were scuffed because I was not allowed to polish them. I was only permitted to change my shirt when ordered so it had a grey rim around the inside of the collar and cuffs. Everything I was wearing was cheap and hard-wearing. Polyester predominated. There was nothing smart about any of it so no wonder I looked like a scruffy nerd, Scott had insisted on it.
The bookshop was a typical old-fashioned bookshop, which had gradually expanded to fill several floors of the building it was in, each being reached by creaking stairs. Books were shelved floor to ceiling. Whoever Peregrine was, he was not frightened about holding stock. Scott and I entered the shop and walked through to an office at the back, which was more like a living room than an office with easy chairs with faded loose covers. A table in the corner had a tray with glasses and decanters so it was more than a workplace. It did serve as an office with a desk to one side behind which sat the proprietor. Peregrine, or Mr Woolmer as I called him, was a florid man in his late sixties or older, over weight , dressed for effect with a large coloured silk handkerchief spilling out of a brown corduroy jacket, beneath which was a yellow waistcoat. Mr Woolmer had grey wavy hair, piercing blue eyes and a large mouth with a lower protruding lower lip. He also was given to theatrical gestures and a manner of speaking. As he stood up and greeted Scott with a hug, my heart fell. There was nothing so far that I had seen that attracted him to me. He had all the affectations of an old school queen. I could not understand why Scott would have brought me within his orbit.
Scott then introduced me to him. He asked me a number of questions about my work at the publishers and how I had met Scott.
"He's not very classy, is he Scott?" Peregrine observed sarcastically turning to Scott.
"He will do, I am sure", replied Scott.
"Oh, yes, he will do, I suppose. I can only offer minimum wage you know", he continued.
"Minimum wage", I thought, "how in the fuck can I live off that? It's a joke."
"Minimum wage is fine", chipped in Scott. "Keep your hand off him during working hours. What you do afterwards is up to you", he said winking at Peregrine.
"Wouldn't dream of putting a hand on him during opening hours", he answered laughing in a tone that made it quite clear that he had no intention of exercising such restraint. Then turning to me, he said, "Then you are hired, young man. I suggest you start at the beginning of the month. Perhaps you should meet your new work colleagues." With this he ushered me out of the office and successively introduced me to his other employees: Jane a woman around my age, Tim a rather lanky but weary looking thirty year old and Margaret an older woman, who had clearly worked for Peregrine for many years. It fact it was quite apparent that it was she that really ran the business with Peregrine being more of a figurehead, flitting in and out at will.
When we returned to the car I turned to Scott, "What's this about minimum wage? I might as well work in MacDonald's than for a queer like that".
"Who's talking?" he replied. "We're all queer, if you hadn't noticed. There will be opportunities to earn on the side with the things we will be up to, if you do your work well. People tip if they a happy with a service."
"Thanks a bunch", I replied making it quite clear I was not at all happy with the arrangement. "Fuckin' slave labour, if ya ask me."
"You are a slave, if you hadn't realised, so you do as I tell you, bumboy. Yes, bumboy for that is what you are. Accept it."
I opened the car to to get in but Scott signaled me to stop. "I have a better idea", he said. "I think you should get to know Peregrine better, don't you?'
"I'll have plenty of time to do that starting next month", I replied. I was desperate to leave and join the normal world. Everything I had seen in the bookshop gave me the creeps.
"No, I think you should get to know him better. I'll ask Peregrine if he would like that." So he called him on his mobile. "Peregrine, old man, I was thinking...don't you want to get to know Kevin a bit better before he works for you full time? I thought you would say that. I'll send him right back. He will be with you in a minute." Then turning to me, he said, "Get a move on, Peregrine hasn't got all afternoon."
"Fuck you", I muttered under my breath.
"Don't ever speak to me like that again", he replied with a real anger in his voice. "You will do as you are told and do it willingly, cheerfully even, and without argument. Understood? You little runt."
"Yes, sir", I whispered feeling that tears were starting to well up in my eyes. I walked across the road and back into the shop. The ground floor was empty. I walked to the back to Mr Woolmer's office and knocked on the door.
"Enter" came the reply. It was like being back at school and being sent to the headmaster. I opened the door and stepped into the office.
"Close the door and lock it", I was instructed. "Take off your clothes and let me have a good look at you... and your glasses. Come stand in front of me." I did as I was ordered. I felt very vulnerable. It was one thing for Scott to see me caged and plugged, it was quite a different matter when it was someone I had only just met and found fairly repulsive.
"Yes", he chuckled, "You'll do, now you have taken those ghastly clothes off. What induced you to dress so shabbily? Glasses don't suit you either. Come and sit here on my knee."
I did what I was told. I had come to accept that whatever I was told to do I had no option in the matter. Peregrine was sitting in one of the chintz upholstered armchairs. When I sat down like a child on his knee he started to run his hands through my hair and stroke my cheeks. "Yes", he said, "You will definitely do." Putting his hand behind my head he pushed it towards him. As I came closer to him I could smell his breath; it was foul. I tried to back off but he held me firmly and pushed my lips towards his. Then he started kissing me. His putrid breath was overwhelming but I knew that I had to try to ignore being in a fog of halitosis. I was to do what was expected of me, whether I liked it not not, and I was definitely not liking this. As I explored his mouth with my tongue, I felt his teeth move. I pressed again, yes, they definitely moved. It had never occurred to me that he might be wearing dentures but he was. That must have been the source of the smell; dirty fucking dentures. He must have also been aware that my tongue was dislodging his dentures, which is a distraction when kissing.
"Maybe this will help", he said and, putting his hand to his mouth, he removed his dentures and placed them on the side table next to him. I stared down at them in surprise, pink plastic shapes with a neat row of pearly white teeth in each of them. There was something disgusting about them but also riveting as they glistened with his saliva on them. I looked back up at him, he had aged at least ten years, if not much more. He looked like a very old man with his sunken toothless mouth and a strange smiling grimace. He chuckled and pursed his lips as only a toothless person can and started to kiss me again, his loose lips trying to nibble mine ineffectively. As my tongue entered his mouth, there was nothing to resist it but a large void. It had room to explore and started to lick his smooth toothless gums both above and below. It was strangely erotic. In a perverse way I rather enjoyed it and to my relief the source of the smell had been eliminated.
Clasping me with his his hands under my arms, he signaled for me to stand up. Instinctively I knew what to do. Kneeling down I started to undo his trousers and unbutton his flies so I could release his erect penis from his clothing. As I started licking it, it had an old fusty taste, a world away from Scott's, like something that had been left in a dark cupboard for ages. But I knew what to do to arouse him with his shaft in my mouth moving in and out against the gentle pressure of my lips; deeper and deeper. I looked up and could see he had closed his eyes and was sighing contentedly. I could see what was in Scott's mind. If I could excite this one, I could excite anyone. What I needed to do was to focus on making it a better and better experience. That was the decision I made when I signed up to Scott's proposal and one I had no way of evading.
I could feel by the movements of his hips, that he was becoming more and more aroused. "Kevin", he muttered, "Be a dear and get that jar on the shelf behind my desk." I did as I was instructed and handed him the jar. "Now turn around." I obeyed this instruction too. Soon enough I could feel him remove the plug and start to butter my crack, his fingers gently exploring and stretching the opening. I knew from the previous evening what to expect and I was not surprised as it happened. First the pressure, then a stabbing pain, not as much as before as Mr Woolmer was not as well endowed as Scott, and then penetration. He was much more vigorous than I had anticipated as he thrust his hips with increasing tempo and strength, holding me tightly around my hips. In fact by the end he had given me a thorough rogering. I was realising that I liked it rough. I like the sensations and I like the feeling of being totally dominated. I suppose I would never have volunteered to be treated like this unless deep down I was always a sub and a natural bottom. When it was over, with his cum still deep within me, he reinserted my plug and asked me to dress again. By the time I had done that, he was back behind his desk, teeth in and looking as if nothing had occurred between us. Putting on my parka I turned to the door, and unlocked it. "I'll be going now, Mr Woolmer. See you at the beginning of the month", I said opening the door.
"I will look forward to that young man and to get to know you better. You made a good start", he replied chuckling, "A very good start. Tell Scott that. Not bad at all."
Back outside I looked for the stop for the number 57 bus which goes past Streatham. It was a bus route with which I was to become all too familiar. On the bus I sent a text to Scott: "Mission accomplished. Necrophilia is not as bad as I thought".
A minute later, there was a ping on my phone: "You seemed to hit it off with Peregrine. Well done. Keep your phone on so I can call you when I need you."
When I arrived home, Scott had obviously paid a visit. On the table was a anal plug and a notes written on a scrap of paper which read "Kev, Here's the plug replacement. You can throw the other one away. Tomorrow wear exactly the same clothes as you are wearing now. In fact I want you to change your clothes every three days, unless I say otherwise. Understood? Remember to take the tablets. I'll phone later. Cheers, Scott". I undressed and hung up my clothes, stuffing my socks into my work shoes. I realised that tomorrow would be the third day that I had worn the exactly the same clothes so they were going to be fairly ripe and look pretty bedraggled. Now that Scott was insisting that I only change my work clothes every three days I would have to get used to it.
Now naked I gently released the old plug and threw it away. Taking a scoop of lube I worked it into my arse and around the plug itself. The plug was appreciably wider than its predecessor so it took a bit of working it in but it slipped in eventually. It was tighter and more invasive than the previous one so I was much more conscious of it as I moved. I suppose that was its purpose, to keep me aware at all times that I was owned as well as the obvious benefit of gradually making it increasing easy to penetrate me. I changed into my casual clothes and set off to find something to eat. I was ravenous. My visit to Mr Woolmer's bookshop had run over the lunch hour and there had never been any suggestion that I was going to be fed.
There's a Burger King in the high street and I settled for that. As I sat down with my order, my mobile rang. It was Scott again. He had obviously had quite a long conversation with Peregrine during which the impression I made had been discussed in detail. He had apparently found my slovenly, unkempt appearance quite a turn on. "Like a street urchin. A ragamuffin.", was how he described it. That is why Scott wanted me only to change my shirt and socks every three days. The trousers were worn without change for at least a month and I wear the same scuffed, unpolished, hard-wearing shoes to work every day without exception. They are the only pair of work shoes I have. He asked me whether that was the first time I had a gummy kiss and, given my rather sheltered life, until the past few months, the answer was obviously that I hadn't. I was told that his real party trick was a toothless blow job which was, Scott explained, was truly sensational. He mentioned that I should try it some time and then corrected himself because it was an impractical proposition with an encased penis like mine. Anyway, I was told, that sort of thing was off limits for me which is why Scott had insisted from the start that I wear the device. I had to concentrate on giving pleasure to others. It was not about me. I had to give but not receive. That was the deal I had agreed to and he wasn't going to change it now.
