“Executive Retreat, Part 2: Dickie-boy On the Job” – by Steve McHalperin

Chapter 13

Dickie-boy Gets Collared

Out of nowhere He yelled “Slaves, present . . . ass!”

Tyler whipped his hands to his ass and I followed suit.  Then I pulled my ass cheeks apart in a humiliating way, exposing my asshole for total access.  I think my face flushed a bit; I felt like a piece of meat. 

Sir moved behind us and I felt the handle of the whip grazing up and down my ass crack.  I think I trembled a little from he fear of what could happen.  I fully expected Him to drive the handle into my poor hole – but He didn’t.  He just teased me, sending the message that He had complete control over what could happen to me.  Another step down into slavery.  This confirmed my earlier theory that Their “training” was physical and psychological, strong torture and sexual humiliation.  Powerful combination. 

Then out of nowhere He yelled:  “Slaves, attention!”   

I heard Tyler next to me scrambling to get up, so I followed his lead and quickly stood up, bracing into the military stance he had mentioned.  I sucked my abs in, tensing the muscles, and threw my chest out.  That was not enough for Sir.  I got two lashes across my back. 

“Push your hands into your thighs, boy.  I want you to tense up your arm and shoulder muscles so I can see them.”

I complied immediately, again hoping to placate Him.  Man, He was touchy!

Then He spoke to Tyler:  “Did you show Dickie-boy the collar?”

“Sir, no, Sir!” Tyler said loudly.  “Sir, just slave A, Sir!”

“Get your own collar and the neoprene one for him,” Master ordered.

“Sir, yes, Sir!” Tyler said, breaking the brace.  I hadn’t noticed it, but one of the clothes trees there were three collars on the pegs.  Tyler brought over a thick leather one.  He stood in front of me and removed two locks from the two buckles on the collar.  They were not locked yet.  He put the collar around his neck, and buckled it off in the back.  Then he reached behind and threaded the lock hasps through the loops in the buckle tongues.  Two clicks and the collar was locked on him.

“This will also be part of the arrival drill,” Master DieQual said to me.  “You will do this before assuming slave A  Tyler-boy will attach yours today, but in the future you will do it yourself.”

Taking my cue from what Tyler had done, I loudly said “Sir, yes, Sir.”

The Master ignored my response.  Tyler got my collar from the clothes tree peg and placed it around my neck.  It was made of very thick rubber and was two and a half, maybe three inches high.  He pulled the collar in snug against my skin and buckled it off.  I could breathe with no trouble, but when I swallowed the tightness of the collar created a strong sensation.  Then I heard two clicks as he closed the locks on the two buckles. 

“Yes,” the Master said, “Now you are both collared and only I have the keys, of course.  You will stay collared as long as you are in my house.  They will be removed only when we go to the office.”

OK, yup, now I was descending another step into slavery.  Slave position A was the start, then a lot of lashes until I got it right, followed by the boot lick.  The collar sealed the deal; I was officially a friggin’ slave in the house of the Master, naked (boots don’t count), collared, cock locked, and my back welted and hurting. 

At least the nip zapper harness was off my chest.  I thought I’d be able to go zap-fear-free for a while.  I was wrong.  You know what?  I was getting tired about being wrong all the time when I thought things couldn’t get any worse.  With a fiendish Master, they can always get worse. 

NEXT: Ch 14, The Dungeon.

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