My days, or at least my mornings, were getting into a groove: maybe be awake when they come for me, maybe asleep, but the opening of the metal door to the hole is my alarm clock. Light floods into the hole, blinding me for a few seconds. Terry reaches down and helps me stand up. I groan from the pain of uncoiling from my cramped fetal position. I’m hoisted out of the hole, hosed down, and then we get ready for work, holding slave A in the foyer until Sir comes for us.
What really pissed me off was the 10 o’clock janitor closet visit was to become part of my daily routine. Terry informed me of Sir’s directive, the same as yesterday: closet, strip, wait for the zaps, scream and double over onto the floor. This goes on for a half hour and then I’m expected to return to my cubicle and work as though nothing has happened. I’m drenched in sweat, my face is red from screaming, and I have to be at my work station checking computer code like normal. It’s nuts, I tell you! I’m leading two lives: one, a computer engineer; the other, sex slave to a bunch of perverted executives, and one in particular, my immediate boss, Sir Master DieQual, torturing the living piss out of me every night.
It was Friday, normally a TGIF event, but I was filled with dread. What would Sir do to me over a whole weekend? How much pain would I be subjected to? Terry had said to me I would eventually experience all the tools and toys in Sir’s dungeon, but I had barely cracked the inventory with the few pieces of bondage and beatings I had endured so far. Would there be a change-up or more of the same? My Friday afternoon was filled with a lot of fear and very little work.
On the drive home Sir was in a good mood. I guess the prospects of a weekend of S&M with a new slave was a TGIF event for Him. He actually talked to me, asking about project work and all. I had my normal dog food dinner and waited locked in slave A for Him to come down to the dungeon.
Loud laughing surprised me when the kitchen door to the dungeon opened and Sir and Terry came down. Sir was in a really good mood.
“Atten. . .tion!” He barked. I jumped up from the floor and braced into the required military stance.
“I know what you’re expecting for tonight, boy. I could see it in your face at work. Did I tell you I really enjoy seeing my boys in fear? Keeps you on your toes, doesn’t it?”
“Sir, yes, Sir!” I replied honestly.
“Good, good,” He said. “Tonight, however, there is a change in schedule. Terry may have mentioned this but once a month we have a relax night. We will have some chicken wings together, some beer, and maybe some premium bourbon. We will review some of your videos or maybe watch some of Terry’s training sessions. It will be a sort of social night. No topic is off the table, but you must continue to address me as ‘Sir.’ That never goes away. Understood, boy?”
“Sir, yes, sir!” I yelled out. “Sir, thank You, Sir!”
“it’s not completely social, but you’ll just have to wait and see,” He added.
“Sir, yes, Sir!” I answered again, realizing Sir always had an agenda. Nothing could be completely casual. What did He have in mind? I liked the wings, beer, and bourbon, but something else was going to happen, of that I was sure.
“So, dickie-boy, for now you can relax and join us upstairs in the den for our ‘special Friday,’ as we call it.”
“Sir, yes, Sir!” I enthused, my mood totally changed from the dread of the afternoon.
We went upstairs to His den, which had very expensive leather furniture. The sideboard was already set with a big plate of wings, paper plates, beer in a big ice bucket, and some Cajun hot sauce, always a treat. They went over and started to serve themselves. Terry beckoned with his hand for me to join them. I was hesitant since this was already a strange change-up from my normal position in Sir’s household. Of course, Terry and I were still naked except for collars, boots, and metal cock cages, but I was already used to that.
I got myself a plate of wings, dosed them with sauce, and popped open a Corona. Sir even had a small plate of lime slices. I joined them on the sofa, Sir was in the middle, dressed in fine leathers, his two naked slaves to either side. What a selfie that would have made!
We watched the local news for a bit, chomping away on the wings and downing several beers apiece. I was really enjoying this Special Friday. Then Sir changed the channel to His internal video system and up came several torture scenes of yours truly, right up there on the big screen, getting whipped by a sexy Sir in leather. The screams were in perfect audio, but He did turn the volume down a tad so we weren’t deafened. Nobody said a word as I got whipped to a frenzy of struggling and screaming. I have to say, I looked pretty good on the video, I mean, my musculature was flexed and corded from all the struggling and my skin gleamed with sweat. I also finally got a video view of my back as Sir lashed it. There were vivid welts, initially light red but rapidly darkening to purple/red. What blew me away was no blood! I was sure my back was raw meat, but Sir’s control of the whip was perfect: all pain, no damage.
Sir was clearly aroused at the videos; He groped His bulging crotch several times, but said nothing as the torture video switched to some of Terry’s earlier sessions. He was bigger than me, more muscular, and put on a fantastic “show” of a slave getting disciplined.
Sir stopped the video and went over to the server. He got a bottle of premium bourbon out of a cabinet, and returned to the couch with three shot glasses. He gave us each a glass and filled it with bourbon, including one for Himself.
By way of a toast, all He said was “Cheers!” We clinked glasses and drank the very good whiskey. I noticed that Sir downed His drink in one gulp. I sipped mine a bit, enjoying the savory burn, but then I thought I should follow His lead so I chugged the bourbon in one gulp. Oh my! Did it burn. Fantastic stuff, bourbon. Smooth, powerful, very nice after-taste. I was amazed when Sir refilled our glasses and we repeated the chug-a-lug.
OK;, by now I had a good buzz on and I was sure the other two were in the same boat. Sir turned the TV off.
“Now, here’s the surprise,” He began.
‘Uh, oh,’ I thought. ‘Here it comes.”
NEXT: Ch 33, Submission Wrestling