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    and9993
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Making of a Slave - 27. Can’t Take It


No, you can't take it, no, you can't take it
No, you can't take that away from me
No, you can't take it, no, you can't take it
No, you can't take that away from me

Head like a hole, black as your soul
I'd rather die than give you control
Head like a hole, black as your soul
I'd rather die than give you control

Bow down before the one you serve
You're going to get what you deserve
Bow down before the one you serve
You're going to get what you deserve

 

 

The next day was uneventful but things took a turn after Zack’s second call with Max. I got back from work and only Zack was in the dorm room. I disrobed and said, “hey, how’s your day going? How’d your call with Max go”

I could tell right away something was different. “It went fine, but I don’t want you to ask about my calls with Max,” he replied in a serious tone.

“OK,” I said, acknowledging the shift in mood.

He continued, “I want to talk to you about the incident yesterday.”

“OK,” I replied, noting that he used the word incident instead of accident.

“What do you think caused it?” He asked calmly, maintaining solemnity.

I paused for a few seconds to process the change in posture. Up to this point everything had been agreeable and friendly - this was clearly different. “Um, I guess I was tired from being up all night and not paying attention.”

“I did warn you a few times to get used to the chastity device while still at home,” he replied.

“I know,” was my only response.

“OK, what else caused it?” he asked.

“I was distracted by the game too.” I replied.

“Distracted?” He asked. “Would you say it was caused by carelessness?”

There was no doubt - I wasn’t properly focused. As usual, he had a point, a real good point. No matter how I looked at it - it was carelessness. I was tired, but that was my problem to deal with and to adjust for. I was also paying attention to the game and not enough on the task at hand, and that was also on me. He asked it as a question, but he knew the answer - and he knew I knew the answer.

“It was,” I said, admitting the obvious. I thought about adding in another apology, but it seemed like the wrong time. He was going someplace else with this.

“How should I feel about that?” He asked.

Before I could answer he added, "How am I supposed to react to it? I mean, I know you for a long time and you're not one to fuck things up."

His voice got a bit sharper but still calm and collected. He continued, "your mouth gets you into trouble, sure, but never a lack of focus or effort. That’s always 100% - so why wasn’t it here?"

"I don't know," I replied. Maybe now was the time to apologize again? "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't focused and ended up hurting you."

He shrugged and said, "It's not about the cut. I don't care about that. If it happened as an accident - that would be fine. But, I don’t think it was that. It was more about your approach, your focus and your level of care.”

His words rang true but I wondered if some of this was coming from Max. Even if it was, he was right. I was tired and distracted and wasn't paying attention. If I was, I wouldn't have messed up. "You're right,” I said, “all I can say is that it won't happen again."

"OK, I sure hope not," he replied matter-of-factly. "I hope you understand there has to be a correction. I need you to go to your room and wait for me."

I nodded and walked to my room without a reply. Correction? Fuck! This wasn’t going to be good. He followed me about a minute or two later holding a leather belt in his hand. There was a blank look on his face. “OK, put your hands on the desk and bend,” he said.

I’m not going to lie. It was scary. I had never received any type of corporal punishment in my life and as far as I knew neither had Zack. I had never really been punished by my parents beyond being occasionally sent to my room. “You’re going to hit me?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied, “as a punishment.”

"Zack, are you serious about this?" I asked. "Can we talk about it? Have you thought this through?"

He remained totally calm and replied, "I have thought it through. I think you need to do the same. We will talk more about this but not now. Now I need you to just take the punishment. Then, I want you to think about all of it.”

I made a last ditch effort, "Zack! I…"

“Weedge, don't make this any harder on either of us. Just get in the position and don't move or say anything until I'm done - unless I ask you a question."

I exhaled dejectedly and put my hand on my desk and leaned in.

"Move your feet back and spread them more," he ordered.

I complied and seconds later he delivered the first blow. He doubled the belt to make It a shorter stroke and It landed across my cheeks. It stung in a physical sense but more so emotionally. I couldn’t process what was happening and started to get this strange feeling - like the one you get when you are about to cry. He paused just a few seconds before delivering the second blow. This one hit in an almost identical spot and hurt even more. He landed a third strike right away. There was more force behind it as it hit slightly below the first two.

"I think what you did was disrespectful - and I hope you see that. I think you need to better understand your purpose and place," he said as he paused. "Being a slave requires you to be focused 100% of the time - not 90%, not 95%, but 100%."

He said not to talk so I didn't but I nodded. Not even sure he saw that but, after he stopped talking, he went on to deliver 4 more blows. Each stroke was harder than the previous one. They landed somewhat haphazardly - on, above and below my bare ass - making it clear he wasn't aiming for a particular spot. My emotions were getting the better of me and I felt myself about to lose it. After the second stroke in this series, I did just that and broke down into tears. It wasn’t the pain that brought it on, it was a feeling of shame and abasement. I went from a soft sob to a yelp as he delivered another stroke, then broke out into a full cry. That didn't prevent him from delivering the fourth blow which increased the intensity of my reaction. I stamped my feet up and down a few times - just a natural reaction - like a petulant child.

Zack was remarkably calm and impassive but he paused again. I took a few shaky breaths and was able to stop the crying bringing it to just a few sniffles that soon subsided. He didn't say a word - just watched me as I collected myself. I got a sense that he wasn’t done but just giving me a moment to recover. He had hit me seven times already. Was he planning to deliver an even 10? Or was this just half time?

I had just about regained my composure when the dorm door opened and Patrick walked in. The door to my room was open so he immediately saw what was going on and walked in. Smiling he asked snarkily, “oh man, was Weedge a bad boy?”

Zack was taking this seriously and didn’t joke back. He smiled and said, “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“It’s OK,” replied Patrick, ‘this I don’t mind seeing. The rest of the shit maybe not so much, but this I want to see” he added half-jokingly.

“We’re almost done. It’s just three more,” answered Zack, “I’ll close the door and keep it quiet.”

I guess ten was the magic number, I thought to myself.

“Na, go ahead,” insisted Patrick, “I’ll watch from outside the room.”


Zack wasted no more time and hit me hard three more times while Patrick howled in laughter. “Wild shit,” he said as he left and went into his room.

Zack stayed in his zone - he wasn’t swayed or amused by Patrick’s interruption. “I want you to think about this. I mean really think about it. Don’t leave your room other than to set up my night toiletries or to use the bathroom of which I will allow you one trip.”

He tapped on his phone and closed the pee slit opening on my cage. He said, “text me when you want to use the bathroom and when you will be setting up my stuff.”

He walked out holding the belt and left me with my sore butt and thoughts. After a few minutes I could hear Patrick and Zack sitting in the TV area watching the game. I couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying but there was the occasional bout of laughter. I do recall being sent to my room as a kid. It was rare and I could count on one hand the times it happened, but I remember the laughter from my brothers as they continued the fun activity I was removed from. That feeling came back to me. I was tired though, and that tiredness overcame all feelings - physical and emotional - and I quickly dozed off.

I woke up to a loud cheer - it was a few hours later. I guess something good happened with the game they were watching. This was a good time to set up Zack’s evening stuff and use the bathroom. I texted for permission and received it. The pee slit opened and I used the toilet. I’m glad I did that first because the slit closed as I was setting out his toothbrush.

I climbed back into bed and thought about my fate. For the first time since I agreed to commit, I had negative feelings about being a slave. I always knew there would be challenges, but I had never focused on it . Until now it had all been about hope and excitement. It sucked, and felt like reality crashing down on me.

I dozed off again and slept for about 4 hours. The combination of lack of sleep and the stress of being hit knocked me out. Unfortunately, the pain of my erect dick pressing against my cage woke me up at about 2:00 AM.

I waited to go through the cycle and doing so left me wide awake to ponder all the events. Zack did tell me to think about it - but I already had it figured out. This one was pretty basic and covered in our agreement. I messed up. It wasn’t an accident, it was carelessness. I had lulled myself into a false sense of security and took my eye off the ball of serving.

My bet is Zack didn’t arrive at the result right away. He’s new at being a Master so, rather than reacting, he waited and worked out his thoughts with Max. In the end, he reached the same conclusion. I had committed a punishable offense. Letting it go unpunished would signal weakness. It had to be done, even if I didn’t like it, but if I’m being honest with myself, it was a needed wake up call.

Ironically, I was also wearing a wake up call on my dick - that one I didn’t need. It seemed I had just fallen back to sleep when the alarm went off for me to set up Zack’s morning stuff. He walked into my room after he woke up before hitting the bathroom.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey, good morning,” I replied.

Are you OK?” He asked.

“I’m good,” I replied. It was actually nice to hear him ask. The look on his face and the tone of his voice made me feel like he cared and was concerned. I decided to take the lead with the conversation. “Look,” I said, “I’m sorry for what happened and even sorrier for putting you in a situation where you had to do that. It was a fair punishment that I earned.”

Zack arched his eyebrows a bit and I continued, “I can say it won’t happen again but I can’t be sure. I can promise you that I will try - try very hard not to give you a reason or need to hit me again.”

I paused waiting for him to say something but he motioned me over to him and when I stepped that way he hugged me. It felt a little strange with him in his sleep shirt and shorts and me totally naked, but I wrapped my arms around him and held him as he held me. It felt amazing.

The good feeling was broken up by Patrick, who asked, “Zack, are you going to use all that stuff on the sink? I need to get in there.” He was more respectful when talking to Zack, but there was still a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Yea, sorry, just a second,” replied Zack as he pulled off the hug and went to use the bathroom.

“I’m not showering so I’ll only be in there a few minutes.” he said to Patrick.

The next few days went by without any incident of note. Classes started Tuesday, six days into being a slave. Once classes started, I had no free time at all. Between work, school and chores every minute of my waking day was filled. It was manageable though and I would try to multitask when possible - like study while I was working or waiting for the laundry to finish.

Getting used to the chastity device was a problem. I also had difficulty adjusting to being naked in the dorm room. Unlike Zack, I hated walking in bare feet and being naked meant wearing nothing other than the collar and cage. It was especially awkward in front of Patrick - being there naked with a chastity device attached to my dick.

I had been wearing the device now for a week straight and, as Zack said, I was starting to get used to sleeping in it - but I noticed a new problem - right on the top part of my dick - an irritation. It didn’t hurt unless touched then it stung a little.

I showed Zack and he helped me look up the cause and treatment. First we got an antibacterial cream to put on it. He allowed me to take the cage off and keep it off for a few hours while we were both in the room together. He also ordered a special night time cage that would allow more space for a nocturnal erection yet still monitor all the statistics. It was more form fitting girth wise but longer and more flexible. The material was solid - it looked like a rigid condom and there was no opening to pee. It was a bit of a pain to switch but Zack allowed it every other night.

Between sleeping with the night cage and being allowed to keep it off at times really helped. I was able to sleep through the night and avoid any irritation.

Copyright © 2021 and9993; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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