"Goodnight, Sir," I said. I lay there quivering under the blanket. Every fiber of my body was screaming for release. Every time I closed my eyes, images from the DVD filled my head. I wondered how much of that I could do, how much I wanted to do, and how much he wanted me to do.
Sometime in the night, I must have fallen asleep, but my dreams were filled with images of men and sex with men and buckets of cum drenching me. I twitched often in my sleep, and licked my lips. I tossed and turned. I got sweaty and threw off all the covers, and then I got cold and bundled up under them. I slept fitfully. Was this only the end of day one?
I woke once during the night and couldn't remember where I was or how I got there. I fought with the covers over me. I grasped my hard cock and squeezed. That seemed to bring things back to focus. I groaned and wondered what I had gotten myself into. I lay there playing the scenes I had watched over and over in my mind.
I tried to image myself doing some of those things and I felt my hole pucker at the thought of a guy sticking his dick or anything else up there. My mind filled with the taste of cum that I had experienced today. I wondered what Sir's would taste like, and then wondered why I was thinking that.
I thought of his body and what it would feel like to touch, to smell, and to taste. I felt my cock throb again and squeezed it once more. I wanted to jerk off as I would have in my apartment, if I had woken up so sexually charged. But I knew I was not allowed to without his permission.
I released myself and tried to focus on something else. I tried to think back to my classes in college, but I kept getting sidetracked with images of men's rooms, dorm showers, roommates, gym locker rooms, any place there was a chance of seeing a man's dick, ass, anywhere I had been naked and other men were as well.
I began to catalogue all the various dicks, balls, asses, chests, arms, feet, etc. that I had seen. My mind raced as I kept trying to switch to something else. If I tried to think of movies, I would get side tracked with images of guys in movies in their boxers or naked.
And when I tried to change that trend, I saw the men's room at the theatre where, when you stood at the urinals, you could see the guy pissing next to you. There were no partitions between the urinals.
I saw the powerful yellow streams hitting the porcelain and heard the gush. I shook my head mentally again and saw myself squatting in the back yard taking a dump while a group of men stood around watching.
I closed my eyes and I saw fountains of cum shooting from all sorts of cocks and I saw my mouth open trying to catch some of it.
My tongue worked in my mouth and I wondered what it would be like to lick and suck on a cock.
I shook my head again and moved my hand. I ran it along my crack and paused to push on my hole. I squeezed my eyes tightly closed as I pushed a bit more. Then brought my hand up to my nose and sniffed.
I shook my head again and wondered what it felt like to have something up there. Would it fit? What if I had to take a dump while it was in there? What if the guy in there had to take a leak while he had it there?
I trembled. My thoughts were driving me crazy. I wasn't getting any sleep. I had to have been tossing and turning now for hours.
I rolled over onto my stomach and began to hump the blanket below me. My whole body trembled and shook. I had to stop otherwise I was going to shoot. My cock was so sensitive from the abrasion against the blanket. I ached for release. I must have moaned or groaned in my sleep because I felt an arm on my shoulder and heard, "It's okay boy. Go to sleep. You have a big day tomorrow."
I began to shiver then, wondering what was in store for me. What did he mean? Was he going to fuck me? Was I going to have to suck his cock? Images went off in a kaleidoscope of possibilities and I clenched my eyes tightly closed and tried to switch my thoughts to something else. It seemed futile. But someplace in there I dozed off again.
I was nudged awake by a foot. I was very groggy as I tried to focus and connect to reality. It came back with a rush and my eyes flew open. Sir was standing over me in gym shorts. I could see up the leg to his cock and balls hanging there.
"Follow me, boy," he said, and, without waiting, turned and began walking down the hall. I scrambled to my feet and rushed to follow him, realizing as I stood that I was hard. I hoped I didn't run into anyone as we moved through the house.
As we passed through the kitchen, I saw Ms. H standing there watching as I moved through. I felt my face suffuse with blood at the thought of her seeing me in this condition. He led me outside and said, "You know what to do."
He looked at me, up and down. His expression didn't change as he saw my morning wood. I turned and walked out onto the lawn. I pushed my cock down and tried not to think of anyone watching me as I tried to get a stream going. I closed my eyes and worked to relax enough to pee.
I managed a few spurts, but nothing of what I would normally have for a morning piss. When I finished, I turned back to him. "Nothing else?" His eyes darted to the tree where the hole was. I couldn't face that. "No, Sir."
He sighed and turned back to the house. I saw that Ms. H was standing at the back door. I looked up and thought I saw a curtain move in one of the windows on the second floor. Had someone else been watching me? I felt the embarrassment rise once again.
Back through the kitchen past Ms. H., where he stopped and said, "After breakfast, he will need an enema. It seems he is constipated."
"Yes, Sir. I will prepare the usual." My hole tightened again as I thought of someone giving me an enema and the fact that it was going to be a woman giving it to me.
Back through the house we went. Back in his bedroom, he went into the bathroom. "Kneel here boy," he said, indicating a place next to the toilet. I got down on my knees and he said, "Pull down my shorts, boy."
With trembling hands I reached up to the waist band of his navy gym shorts and pulled them down. Once they were down to his ankles, he stepped out of them.
"It is time for you to become familiar with my body." He stood there, pointed his cock at the toilet and let loose a gush of piss that bubbled and frothed in the bowl. My head was just inches from his cock and the stream. I could smell the acrid tang of his piss.
When he finished, instead of shaking his cock to get the last drops off, he wiped it on my head. He then turned, lowered the toilet seat and sat down. And while I knelt there next to him, he plopped a couple of turds into the toilet. I didn't see them, but I could hear and smell them. When he finished, he stood, turned, and flushed the toilet.
"You will get used to seeing me doing everything. You are going to learn to take care of me and my body." He said it again without rancor or any inflection in his voice, just a statement of fact.
"And now I think it is time you learned more about my body." He stood there with his cock inches from my face. Was this the time he was going to make me suck his cock? Could I do it? What would it taste like? Would he get hard? Would he cum in my mouth? I mentally shook my head.
"You will learn to wash me and, in so doing, will get your first chance to inspect my body." He paused and I looked down to his feet and back up to his cock. His tan legs with their covering of hair led up to his dangling cock and balls. They were surrounded by the same color hair that covered his legs, but kinkier. His flaccid cock hung down over the top of large golf ball sized balls.
"Now go into the shower and get the temperature set. You will find washcloths, soaps and shampoos there." I stood keeping my eyes downcast. I found a large walk-in shower. It curved around so that there was no need for a curtain, and the area it contained would easily hold both of us.
I turned on the water and adjusted the temperature until it was what I would want. "Sir, the water is ready for you."
He came in then and stood in the center of the spray. "Start from my neck and work down. Make sure you clean every inch of me. And as you wash, inspect my body. Get to know all the nooks and freckles. I expect that shortly you will know my body better than you know your own."
I closed my eyes for a moment, seeing myself standing there naked and hard in front of this man. I was going to intimately touch this stranger. I had never washed a man before. "Do you understand, boy?" he said, interrupting my thoughts.
"Yes, Sir," I said.
"Then get busy, boy."
"Yes, Sir." I picked up a washcloth, got it wet, and then applied some liquid soap to it. I tentatively touched it to his neck. My hand trembled again as I began to wash him. I tried to focus on the skin that I was washing. I felt the warmth of his body. I closed my eyes again and took a deep breath. I opened my eyes and began to scrub this man, my Master's body.
I washed down from his neck across his back and down. I saw the strength of his broad shoulders and followed the muscles down his back to where it met the top of his crack. I saw the patch of hair that marked the beginning of his crack.
I moved my hands up and washed his chest then. Once I stood too close and my cock grazed against him. It was like an electric shock. I gasped and stepped back. Once again the realization of my situation was brought back to the forefront of my thoughts. I was standing here naked and sexually charged, scrubbing a naked man.
I washed across his tanned well-developed chest, noting the pattern of hair across his pecs. I saw the trail of hair that led from his navel down to his crotch. I switched back to his ass and scrubbed the cheeks. I started to move down to the back of his thighs when he said, "Everything, boy."
I swallowed and said, "Yes, Sir," in a very timid voice.
"Speak up boy," he said.
"Yes, Sir," I said a bit louder.
I took the washcloth and ran it up and down his crack. "Spread the cheeks boy and make sure you explore everything and clean it well."
I blushed again and crouched down, pulled one cheek to the side and saw the hair that flowed down his crack. I saw the rosebud of his hole. I washed it and the swirl of hair around it. I continued down until I was washing the area behind his balls. He spread his legs so I could see and clean.
Then I was kneeling and looking into his crotch. I reached out and took his cock into my hand and washed it well, pulling back on the bit of skin that clung to the base of the head. It was at least an inch and a half across. I was torn between the revulsion I should be feeling and the fascination with this close inspection I was being allowed; or I mean directed, told, instructed to do. I saw the piss slit and wondered if mine was that long and in that position on my cock.
My cock wasn't as big as his and, now that my crotch was shaved, my balls seemed even smaller. Then I hefted his balls and washed each one. It hit me then, again, that I was holding and cleaning a man's dick and balls. I would have never imagined doing that in my life. And from what I gathered, I would be doing it often.
My thoughts were fixed on my situation again as I washed down his legs and to his feet. I lifted each one and washed it carefully, cleaning between each toe, noticing the patterns of hair on his instep and toes.
I was finished. He turned and rinsed. "Now shampoo my hair." I stood and once again brushed against him with my cock. The touch of naked flesh against it was exhilarating. Something I had only imagined, and, until now, had only been me and my hand. I inhaled sharply.
He stood tall, so that I had to stand close to reach his head and shampoo it, so that my cock constantly rubbed against him. I closed my eyes and focused on the feeling.
I trembled all over as my cock brushed against the warmth of his body. I must have moaned because he said, "Pay attention, boy. This is not for your pleasure!"
I snapped back to what I was doing and said, "Yes, Sir." I scrubbed his head and rinsed it and washed it again. I added some conditioner that was there along with the soap and shampoo.
He had his eyes closed as I let that set for a bit. I stood looking up at him. I hadn't realized so dramatically how much taller he was than me. He was a solid built hunk of a man. He exuded masculinity, and it contrasted with me even more sharply now that I had all my hair removed. I looked like a young kid compared to him. He had to be in his forties, but he was in very good shape.
He moved his head under the nozzle and rinsed the conditioner out. He stepped back and said, "Okay, turn off the water and then grab a towel and begin drying me."
"Yes, Sir," I said, and did as instructed.
I dried his hair first, again having to stand close to him. I felt the warmth radiating from his body as I did this. I then moved down and dried his face, neck and chest. He raised his arms so I could dry his armpits. I stared at the tangle of hair there and was again reminded of my lack of hair.
I used the towel and dried him as I had washed him from top to bottom, not missing any part of him. I knew enough to spread his ass and dry his crack. I dried his cock and felt it swell a bit in my hand. Again, the warmth of it struck me. It wasn't some inanimate object; it was real, flesh and blood; the cock of a man. I realized I had my face just an inch or so from it as I held and dried it; kneeling at his feet.
I felt a struggle going on in my mind. I wanted to stick my tongue out and taste it, and I didn't at the same time. I shook my head and closed my eyes. What was happening to me that I would even consider such a thing? But all those images from last night flashed through my mind. The scenes of a guy sucking another man's cock and both of them appearing to enjoy it filled my mind. What would the texture of it be like?
I shook my head again and took each ball in hand and dried them. And I don't know what possessed me, but I blew on the hair to dry and fluff it. I heard a slight snicker and closed my eyes. I moved on and dried his legs, calves and feet. He lifted each foot practically to my face as I dried them.
When I was finished drying him, he told me to use one of the brown towels and quickly dry myself. It was a thinner, coarser weave, but it absorbed the water and I was quickly dry. He had stood watching me. Again I felt myself minutely observed as I did so.
My nerves felt like they were stretched taut. I stood there feeling I would begin shaking at any moment.
He looked at me as if judging something. He made some kind of decision because he said, "There are boxers, t-shirt and socks in the drawers there. Get a set and you may dress me."
"Yes, Sir," I said, and moved over to the indicated drawers. As I opened them I noticed how organized and neat they were. As I took out the items, I thought of the time I had gone through the drawers of a guy from high school when he left me alone in his bedroom. I had quickly looked through each of his drawers looking for porn I guess, wondering what he used to jerk off with.
I remember finding all of his jocks. Some appeared to have been used and put back in the drawer because I remember seeing pubic hair on the pouch. I hadn't thought about that in years. I hadn't done it again, but it was clear in my mind, seeing the off-white woven pouch with wiry black hairs in it.
I snapped back to reality as I took the items and walked back of to him. I was shaking as I knelt and held out his boxers for him to step into. Once he stepped into them I pulled them up and watched as he cock was first pulled up and then slipped behind the waistband. I could see the outline of his cock and balls through the material.
While I was kneeling there, he lifted first one foot and then the other so I could pull the socks on over his feet.
Then I stood and he put out his arms and I pulled the t-shirt over them and then down his body. As I did this, the warmth of his body impacted me again. I was now once again the only naked person in the room.
He reached over and pushed my dick down and then quickly released it, making it snap back up and hit me in the lower belly. I bent over and looked down. A string of golden liquid leaked from my cock. I stood up straight.
"You are still hard and dripping." He paused, and I blushed from his observation. "Is this turning you on?"
"No, Sir!" I said quickly, and then paused, "I mean, Sir, I don't know, Sir." I was so confused.
I heard a bit of humor in his voice when he spoke again. "Not sure what is turning you on, boy?"
"No, Sir. I mean, yes, Sir." I didn't know how to answer the question. \ He pulled on a pair of track pants as I fumbled with answers and embarrassment. He stood and pulled on a pair of cross trainers and tied them. He did it so effortlessly, balancing on one foot and tying the shoe.
He stood up when he was finished and walked over close to me. He ran his ran across my chest and down my stomach. He reached down and gripped my cock in his hand and looked me in the eye. "Does this feel good, boy?" He squeezed my cock and slid his hand away from my body.
I moaned involuntarily and whimpered out a "Yes, Sir," between clenched teeth. I hated admitting that his touch did that to me.
He moved his hand and gripped my ball sack, "And this, does this feel good, boy?"
I was trembling all over and said breathlessly, "Yes, Sir."
He gently increased the pressure on my balls. "And now, boy?"
I closed my eyes and managed a "Yes, Sir."
He increased the pressure more, "and now, boy?"
I could feel the pressure beginning to hurt, but for some reason I managed another, "Yes, Sir."
He tightened even more and I whimpered just a bit and said, "Yes, Sir," without him answering.
He moved so he was looking directly into my eyes and squeezed some more. I blinked my eyes and tried to speak levelly. "Yes, Sir."
He squeezed more and I stood up on my toes trying to relieve some of the pressure, "And now, boy, does this feel good?"
I stammered out a "Yes, Sir," between clenched teeth. I could feel sweat breaking out on my forehead.
He gave them one more quick squeeze that sent a bolt of pain from my nuts to my groin and then he released them. I panted and then said, "Thank you, Sir."
He said, "For what, boy, for squeezing them, for the pain, or for releasing them?"
His eyes were searching my face and my eyes as I said, "Yes, Sir." I didn't know how to answer and what would be correct. I saw a smile crease the corners of his eyes.
Without looking down he ran his fingers across the end of my cock, then he brought his fingers to my lips. "Open your mouth, boy."
I did as he told me and he wiped his wet fingers across my tongue. My precum was smeared there and on my lips. I licked my lips and swallowed. I closed my eyes for a second. What was happening to me? I shivered as I stood there.
"Follow me, boy."
"Yes, Sir," I tried to control the tremors in my body as I followed him. I watched the muscles of his back play under the t-shirt and how his butt clinched and moved. Back through the house to the kitchen where Ms. H. put food down on my table, `my table' I thought. I sat down in the indicated chair, which kept my knees high and my legs spread. I was on display for her as I sat there. There was a raisin bran muffin, yogurt and a bowl of grapes, cantaloupe and pineapple. There was a spoon in the yogurt but everything else was finger food. I ate all of it except the cantaloupe as I cannot eat it.
All the while I was eating they both stood and watched me. I closed my eyes as red suffused my face as I realized that I was the center of attention; naked and hard sitting on a child's chair in the kitchen.
"Everything," Ms. H said.
I started to say something when Sir said, "Everything, boy."
I managed a nervous, "Yes, Sir," as I picked up a piece of cantaloupe and put it in my mouth. I chewed as little as possible and nearly gagged as I swallowed. I put another piece in my mouth and it wouldn't go down. I jumped up and ran for the back door. Out in the back yard I fell to my knees and puked. I hate spewing my guts. It racked my stomach and I retched and retched.
Finally, I stopped and sat back on my haunches. I had tears in my eyes and I wiped my mouth and blew my nose using my fingers to block first one side and then the other. "I am sorry. I am sorry, Sir. I am sorry, Ms. H. I am so sorry."
"Okay, no more cantaloupe for the time being." Sir said with a bit of humor in his voice. I was worried about the `for the time being.' I had never been able to stomach them. There were other things I could eat that I preferred not to eat, but I had never been able to eat most melons, except watermelon.
"Yes, Sir," I managed as my stomach clinched a couple more times.
"Well, you wasted your breakfast today, boy; nothing until lunch now."
"Yes, Sir," I said meekly. I thought I wouldn't have been able to eat anything else now anyway.
"Ms Harrington will give you your enema now and then later you will come out and clean up this mess." I closed my eyes again. I was going to be sick again as I thought of having to submit to this indignation.
"Do you understand, boy?" he said brusquely. I hadn't acknowledged his instructions.
"Yes, Sir!" I tried to sound more positive than I felt. I realized that the only good thing that had come of that was that I was now soft.
"Follow me!" Ms. H said.
Almost as a reflex, I said, "Yes, Sir," I bit off the Sir about half through and said, "Ma'am."
I heard a humph from her and I followed behind her, struggling to keep pace with her fast, quick steps.
She led me into a laundry room and told me to climb up on the large drain board next to the sink. Sir had followed us in and stood watching the procedure. She had me on all fours on the counter and I wished I could hide as he told me to put my head down on my hands. I heard her run the water and, I guess, adjust the temperature.
I could see her working back between my legs. She filled a large rubber bag with a bit of solution and then filled it with the water. The bag bulged as it filled. It seemed like it must hold a gallon of water. She turned off the water and affixed a hose to the bag and then hung the bag from a hook on the wall.
She took a tube of something from a drawer and put a bit of it on the end of the hose. Then she brought the end of the hose up to my hole and in one swift motion pushed it in about 4 inches. I gasped and rose up a bit. She pushed on my shoulders and did something as I began to feel the warm water rushing in, filling me.
It continued on and on and I thought it would never stop! I gasped and tried not to say anything. I didn't want to be punished again. But strangely as the pressure increased, my cock began to stir. This added humiliation made me bury my face in my hands. How could this be turning me on? And then this reaction that was becoming more common to humiliation increased the sexual tension and I moaned. I bit my tongue and fought to keep my cock from growing.
I thought I was going to explode when the fluid finally stopped flowing. "Now hold that for 5 minutes," Ms. H said, as she put one hand on my ass and removed the hose. "And don't let one drop leak out!" She smacked my ass and my hole clinched tighter. Both stood and watched. My gut rumbled and burbled as I stayed in that absurd position and my embarrassment grew with each second.
After what seemed to be thirty minutes, I thought I was going to just lose it right then when she said, "one more minute." I gasped then and felt the liquid move further up into my abdomen. The ache continued to grow. I kept fighting the urge and kept working to keep my hole tightly sealed.
It dawned on me then to wonder where I was going to get rid of this fluid. Where was the toilet?
"Okay, climb down carefully. Don't spill one drop! Go outside, to the hole, and release it there." I gasped loudly then. I couldn't imagine making it that far! I managed to get off the counter and my only thought was not to leak any, so I reached back and put my finger over the hole and duck waddled back through the kitchen and out the back door.
I didn't think I would make the hole, but I made it. I squatted over the hole and released. As I felt the relief from the release, I realized where I was, squatting naked over a hole in the backyard of the house. I didn't want to know if anyone could see me and, at that moment, I didn't care.
I stayed there until nothing else came out. Then I opened the wooden box and used the toilet paper, again ashamed that someone might be watching me wipe my ass. I stood and turned. Sir was there with a smile on his face. "It usually doesn't take one or two enemas to get a boy over his inhibitions of relieving himself in the back yard."
I blushed and looked down. He handed me a shovel and told me to bury it and then use the hose to wash up the vomit on the lawn.
He stood and watched as I did these things. Then he took the hose and sprayed me off. I stood there shivering in the cold water of the hose as he moved the water over my body. I He had me bend over, and sprayed my ass. He washed my face and chest and then sprayed my crotch until I lost all semblance of size and shriveled to a little thimble of a dick.
He tossed me one of the coarse brown towels and I dried myself and tried to get warmth back into my extremities. I shook as I handed the towel back to him and he had that twinkle in his eye again that was beginning to indicate to me that he was pleased with something I had done.
It warmed my heart to see that and then I wondered why I was responding so to this stranger; this man who had control over my life.
"Okay, now that that is all over, we can start with your training for the day," he said, heading back into the house.
My heart thumped as I wondered what "training' might mean.
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harry