DieQual made motions that the meeting was over. I was still frozen to the chair, shocked at the incriminating and embarrassing videos I had just seen, mortified at all the degrading things I had been forced to do at the “retreat.” He was right; I had no choice. I was trapped.
“On your way out, you have my permission to spend a few minutes with my Tyler-boy. Don’t waste too much of his time, but you may ask him a few questions,” DieQual said, getting up from his big desk chair. It was my signal to also get up. I couldn’t feel my legs under me, but somehow they could still work.
“Sir, thank You, Sir” I said to my Master. I couldn’t think of anything else to say, so I just walked out of his office, closing the door behind me.
Tyler raised his eyebrows in question. “So, how did it go?” he asked.
“Not good,” I said. ‘Not good at all. He’s got me trapped. I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do,” I added.
“Look, it’s not all that bad, just very different from what you might have expected in your life. You’ll find out soon enough, but I can tell you this, Sir’s rough. They’re all rough, no slack, no mercy.”
“Were you trapped into this?” I asked him.
“Yes, pretty much the same way you were. Altered videos from a retreat weekend, job threats, but Sir did mention the financial rewards, didn’t He?”
“Yes,” I replied. “He said there were substantial financial gains for the slaves. Is that true?”
“Oh, yes, absolutely!” he answered. “I have no expenses since I live with Sir. He pays for everything, so all the money goes into a bank account. It’s been two years for me, and the account is close to six figures. I couldn’t make that in a lifetime just working at this job. My guess is that you’ll eventually move in with us, so you won’t have any expenses, either. It’s all gravy, man!” he added.
“All I have to do is get whipped and fucked twice a day, right?” I said, having no idyllic delusions about what life as a slave to a Man would entail.
“Yeah,” he said with a smirk. “That’s pretty much it. You get used to it,” he added.
He was quiet for a minute, maybe thinking of the profound changes in his own life, but then he turned back to his computer screen. “I need to get a few things done, Dick, before quitting time. You’re coming home with us, right?”
“Yup,” I said, turning to leave. “Tonight.”
I went back to my cubicle, having no idea how or what I should feel. I was in a daze. All kinds of crap floated around in my head: money, tortures at the retreat, slavery, extreme pain, money, endless abuse, humiliating sex acts, money. I guess the money won out. All I had to do was scream my friggin’ guts out, pull my ass cheeks apart, and open my mouth real wide. Yeah, Dickie-boy’s going to be sucking for dollars. Bring on the whips and chains, but “Show Me The Money!” OMG, I was so confused.
NEXT: Ch 10, To The Estate