By Joshua Ryan
The rest of the winter … What happened? Nothing. Not even another trip to the bedroom. Bottom line: I was still a workie. I was still a house servant. I was owned by the current partner of my former partner. They had their breakfast, lunch, gym, dinner, movies, friends. I cleaned up after them. I also got up on the long ladder and dug out the gutters. I dragged the dead possum out of the storm drain. Cicero paddled me for stealing a cookie that was supposed to go on Jerry’s birthday cake. My only hope was that Mike and Jerry were hazing me, using me, shaming me, until one day they’d decide to let me go. If I could have shamed myself more, I would have, just to get this to end. I would have worn a leash every day. I would have slobbered at their feet. I would have begged them to rape me. But maybe that would just have made them want to keep me. Yeah, and maybe their favorite way of torturing me was to let me think they’d forgot all about me.
OK, eventually they’d get tired of that. Wouldn’t they? And then they’d let me go. I wished I had somebody to help me figure things out. I wished I had somebody to touch and make love to. I wished I was back with Ace. But if I was ever gonna get out of this, I had to stay in the House and live with a bunch of dumb hopeless faggots and bust my ass to keep Mike and Jerry’s toilets clean.
My fetish can be summed in one word: Speedos. But then bondage isn’t far behind. I used to get a hard on simply by driving past sporting goods stores because that’s where you would buy Speedos, when I was growing up. I think an athletic man with a hot physique wearing a tight Speedo is the perfect combination of nature and… well, synthetics, since I like 100% nylon Speedos!