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By slavebladeboi
Nate gave a final wave as the car carrying Alex and Greg disappeared around the corner of the street. He walked quickly back into the house and placed the addresses they would be at, together with their phone numbers to call in case he might wanted to join them after all, under a fridge magnet where he couldn’t miss seeing them. He stood in the kitchen and took two or three deep breaths to calm his nerves, knowing now was the time to take Mike up on his invitation to have a serious chat.
Mike met him on his doorstep and invited him in. “Go through to the kitchen, Nate, take a seat and I’ll fix us one of my special brews.” He said the last words as if they were in capital letters. He opened the fridge and poured the cloudy liquid into two tall glasses. Then, sitting down opposite Nate, he looked him straight in the eye. “I think we are both wondering what’s next, aren’t we?”
Nate almost did his usual “look down at his feet” move but stopped himself halfway and looked back at Mike. Mike continued to look at him, but, in the end, as Nate didn’t volunteer anything, he said quite quietly, “Be open, Nate. There’s not a lot left to be embarrassed about. I’ve seen you sobbing with regrets, you’ve told me things you probably haven’t ever put into words before. You know things about me not many other people in this world know, plus you’ve seen more of me than most other people have, so let’s just both open up and say what we need to.”
Luka realizes that being a slave consists of two things: having your master focus on you intensely – and painfully – for short bursts of time, then being left alone, exposed and naked, often bound painfully, for hours. Today Luka is stretched on the rack by his master, muscle-bound Nicholas Greystone, who loves the way his slave’s stomach sucks in as his body is stretched. While playing with the slave’s cock, Nicholas also flogs his hairless torso, sending him into spasms of whimpering. He stretches the captive tighter and whips him harder, covering his ribs with welts, then leaves him to suffer alone for hours.
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Title: LUKA: A Model Slave – Chapter 4
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By slavebladeboi
Getting over his feelings of mortification, Nate slowly climbed out of bed. He pulled the cord and shut those window blinds completely. He knew they wouldn’t stay shut for long. He would soon open them and get some air in the place.
Glad that he didn’t have to face Mike again for at least a week, by which time he’d have determined exactly how much he was visible when standing at that window, he finished in the bathroom and pulled on a pair of shorts, another T shirt and some trainers. Once downstairs he collected Mike’s keys that were still on the floor in the hallway and let himself out.
It seemed strange being in Mike’s house alone. He carefully and quietly walked into all the rooms, all except one that is, although he did give the handle a turn to see if it was really locked. It was almost as though he wasn’t supposed to be there, as if he was a burglar making sure the house was empty. After his “tour” and gaining a bit more confidence, he opened the back door going out onto the rest of the garden and the garage. Letting himself into the garage, he stood looking at that dust sheet and what it covered. He longed to peep under it. He contained himself, for now.
By slavebladeboi
With thanks to POW for his editing skills and the many suggestions that inspired this story.
Nate made sure the door of his bedroom was locked before he stood naked, facing the window. There was no one else home, but it made him feel safe both mentally and physically. The windowsill was level with his hips, and the slats of the blind were at an angle that allowed him to see out without being seen. It was a position he’d taken up several times when he noticed that the new neighbour was out and about, either tending to the front garden of his house, directly opposite the house Nate shared with two other college guys, or washing his car or all the other small jobs that needed taking care of when the weather was warm and the sun out.
This time the neighbour, a guy who was obviously in his thirties and looked to be in perfect shape to 20-year-old Nate, well-built and wearing only some skimpy shorts, was washing his car on the drive. It was a 1970 Corvette Stingray, deep blue and perfect. Any reasonable young male, in fact any man of any age, would have made some excuse to stop by and compliment the guy on his choice of vehicle, but Nate wasn’t so forthright. He preferred to stay hidden and watch from a distance. Another reason for his reluctance to make an appearance was that locked around his right wrist was one half of a handcuff, the other half locked tightly round his cock and balls, thus leaving his left hand free to play with his nips as he wanked furiously, gazing at the bronzed body sweating in the heat of the afternoon sun, wiping the odd spray of soap suds and water off his body.
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By Scribe and Stormbound
A few months after the Discipline Technologies slave warehouse was fully operational at our prison facility, we received a message from a potential client. This client indicated that he was looking to experience long term imprisonment and slavery at our facility. He indicated that he was well off and had inherited a trust fund that could automatically cover the payments for his incarceration. The candidate was in his late 20s and had no living relatives after his parents died in an accident several years prior leaving him to inherit their wealth. Recent attempts to be dominated were unsatisfactory as many masters were not harsh enough and seemed more interested in his money than true slavery or bondage.
We responded by sending a questionnaire, and his responses indicated a desire for heavy bondage, extreme discipline, objectification, slavery, and humiliation. After a few rounds of negotiation, we arrived at an agreement for his imprisonment conditions. The following is the candidates account of his arrival and confinement in our facility:
I couldn’t wait to tear open the envelope I received today from Discipline Technologies. We had discussed the terms of my confinement, and this letter finalized the date and instructions for reporting to the prison. I will serve one year closely confined in their underground prison and then serve one year as a slave in their warehouse facility. The company will make automatic withdrawals from my trust fund to pay for my incarceration. I won’t know when my term will end, but we did negotiate one way that I could end my ordeal. Every two years I will be given a choice to answer yes or no to continuing my imprisonment/enslavement or being released.
