Brandon's Slave Training

Brandon Browne stood on tiptoe to pull his carryon bag from the overhead bin, quickly ducking to avoid being hit in the head by the heavy nylon bag. Slipping the carrying strap over his head, Brandon settled the bag on his shoulder and followed the line of passengers off the plane into the Miami Terminal. He ignored the curious glances of some of the other passengers – they either thought he was a young teen traveling by himself, or were openly curious about seeing a young man who just barely stood five feet tall. He knew that he hardly looked like he was nineteen – most people thought he was fifteen or sixteen at most. He was used to the looks, and had gotten to the point he didn’t really care about them anymore – besides, he was nervous enough as it was to be concerned with strangers being amused by his small stature. Trudging along the boarding ramp, he wondered if there really was going to be anyone waiting to meet him at the airport or if he had wasted his Spring Break flying down to Miami. Well, it wouldn’t be totally wasted, he decided. If all the e-mails between him and Don Tanner had been fakes, he’d still be able to spend Spring Break in a pretty cool place.

Brandon followed the crowd away from the gate and made his way to the main concourse. Reaching the concourse, he paused and glanced around – Don had told him to go to the coffee shop and wait there. The coffee shop turned out to be an upscale café specializing in latte drinks and cappuccinos. Pretty cool, he thought. One of his favorite hangouts back at the university was a café just down the street from his dorm. Ordering a cappuccino, Brandon made his way to a table near the entrance and sat down to wait. He wondered if the waiting was because of heavy traffic, or another test Don had devised to see how Brandon reacted. The young college student felt a thrill of excitement build in his belly – he knew from the time he was thirteen that he was gay, and knew a few years later that the idea of being dominated turned him on. By the time he was sixteen, Brandon had discovered leather sites on the Internet and instinctively knew that the world of leather and BDSM was what he wanted to experience. Living in a small town, Brandon didn’t have much chance to explore his growing interest – he knew he wasn’t the only gay teen in town, but as far as he knew, he was the only one eager to delve into leather. He purposely chose to attend a large university in the hope that he could bring his interests to life. Once again, he was disappointed – at least initially. Turning to the Internet in the hopes of meeting someone locally – he didn’t, but he did meet Don and the two began an e-mail correspondence.

The casual couple of times a month e-mails quickly turned into weekly messages, and then daily e-mails. As Don described his interests, Brandon grew more and more excited. Don had explained that he had several young slaves he played with on a regular basis – some slightly younger and some slightly older than Brandon. Only one of Don’s boys lived with him, and that was Jason. While Jason was submissive to Don, he wasn’t technically one of Don’s slaves. Don wanted a live-in slaveboy and was particularly interested in a diminutive person like Brandon. Over the course of the last few months, Don had begun describing specifically what he wanted – he wanted a slave who was completely shaved smooth. That wasn’t much of a concern to Brandon – he didn’t have much body hair to begin with. Most of what he had was concentrated in his armpits and crotch. Don wanted a boy he could keep either clothed only in underpants or entirely naked all day long – Brandon found that idea both humiliating and extremely exciting. Some of Don’s other interests included piercing and tattooing his slave – ideas the college student discovered were intriguing. Eventually, Don mentioned he wanted a slave boy who was castrated. That thought scared the shit out of Brandon.

After the e-mail talking about castration, Brandon ignored Don’s e-mails. The initial thought of losing his balls scared the young man – but at the same time, he found himself getting an erection when he thought about it. He found himself dreaming about castration and even daydreaming about it in classes – all the time accompanied by erections. After a week, Brandon responded to Don, asking him to explain what he meant when he talked about castration – did he mean he was just going to chop his slave’s balls off with a butcher knife, or what? Don responded immediately, setting Brandon’s fears about the butcher knife to rest. The castration would be performed by a veterinarian he knew and there would be no pain involved. It was a simple procedure, Don explained in his e-mail, the slave would be on a table and receive injections of pain killers so he didn’t feel anything. The vet would then do the deed, put a couple of stitches in and the whole procedure would be over. Don added that castration was the sign of the ultimate slave – a slave who was willing to give up his balls to his Master. Three weeks worth of daily e-mails that eventually led to a series of phone calls followed Brandon’s growing acceptance of the idea of castration. Then, Don suggested Brandon come to Miami for Spring Break – all expenses paid. When Brandon called the airline ticket desk, he found that a first-class ticket had been reserved in his name leaving late in the afternoon the day before Break officially began and returning late on the day before classes resumed.

Once Brandon had confirmed that he had picked up the tickets, Don had sent him another e-mail asking for a recent photograph – the ones Brandon had sent earlier in the correspondence were at least a couple of months old. That instruction was easy – Brandon stopped at the copy shop and had a new photograph made and asked that a copy be scanned and saved on disc for him. He uploaded the picture as soon as he got back to the dorm. Don’s next e-mail complimented the college boy on how quickly he had followed instructions. The only problem was that Brandon’s dirty blonde hair was too long – he could expect to receive a haircut at Don’s hands during his stay over the school vacation.

Reading over the latest e-mail, Brandon felt a brief pang at the thought of getting his haircut – he’d always worn it long and liked it that way. But, at the same time he had accepted the plan without any complaint and realized his relationship with Don was moving from one of possibility to one of reality. The realization didn’t scare him like he thought it would have – he found himself excited by the concept and began ticking off the days until he boarded the plane for Miami and a turning point in his life.

Now, he was in Miami, sipping cappuccino and waiting.

A large guy about Brandon’s age slid onto the stool on the other side of the table. The two of the stared at each other in silence for a few moments. The stud across from him was a couple of inches over six feet and at least two-hundred fifty pounds of muscle. He wasn’t overly pumped up like some of the weight-lifter types Brandon had seen on campus and even though his T-shirt wasn’t skin tight, his pecs clearly showed under the shirt. Bright blue eyes studied Brandon from under a stylishly highlighted Ivy League style that gave gelled and brushed to look casually rumpled hair a two tone effect that looked pretty hot. Finally, he smiled revealing straight, even teeth.

“So, you’re Brandon,” the buff stud said pleasantly, holding out his hand. “I’m Jason – Don’s waiting for us.” Jason slid from the stool and grabbed Brandon’s bag, draping his free hand over the smaller young man’s shoulder. Jason easily moved through the crowds to the Arrivals pick-up loading zone where a gleaming white Range Rover stood waiting. The man standing next to it broke into a wide grin seeing the two of them approach. Brandon found his heart thumping in his chest – he was about to meet Don in person for the first time.

For some reason, Brandon had a mental image of someone nearing fifty – but Don couldn’t be much older than thirty-five. He was about the same height as Jason, but slightly smaller in build – though just as clearly muscled. His medium length hair was so brown it looked almost black – he reminded Brandon of someone familiar. For a moment, he couldn’t place who Don reminded him of and then it suddenly hit him --–on looked remarkably like the actor Pierce Brosnan. Coming up to his two boys, Don leaned down and kissed Brandon on the mouth in public. The young man had never kissed anyone in public before and was torn between panic and a sudden urge to hold the embrace forever. Stepping back from Brandon, Don noticed his discomfort and laughed.

“Nobody here knows any of us,” Don said, his voice melodic and hypnotizing. “So fuck them if they get their panties in a wad.” Brandon couldn’t help joining in Don’s laugh – he was right. Why should he care what strangers thought? Jason tossed Brandon’s bag into the back of the Range Rover before climbing into the back seat. Don opened the front passenger door and ushered his guest into the front seat. Climbing behind the wheel, Don smoothly pulled away from the curb and expertly wove his way through the traffic around the airport.

Once clear of the airport traffic, Don and Jason began chatting with Brandon – asking how his flight was, how his courses were going, just general getting to know one another type of things. Eventually, the conversation came around to the reason for Brandon’s visit. Don asked if the young man was sure he wanted to begin slave training, adding that it wasn’t too late for him to stay at a motel or just turn around and take the next flight back to the university. Brandon didn’t even think twice before answering that he was ready and eager to experience the training. Don graced him with a generous smile while Jason leaned forward and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Well, if you’re ready to begin your training, there’s no time like the present to begin,” Don said, glancing over at the blonde haired lad. “You can slide out of those jeans and your shorts now.”

“You mean strip naked right here in the car?”

“No, you can keep your T-shirt on,” Don said. “Go on, get out of those pants – I want to see what you’ve got.”

“But,” Brandon stopped himself. This was obviously his first test and he didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot. Blushing furiously, he undid his belt and awkwardly squirmed out of his jeans and underwear, removing his sneakers in order to get his jeans off. Jason reached between the seats and held out his hand so Brandon could hand his clothes over. Brandon sat with his head bowed, his naked crotch exposed hoping that no truckers could look down and see him. Don glanced over and nodded approvingly.

“Nice bush,” he said.

“Sure is,” Jason agreed, reaching between the seats to run his fingers appreciatively through Brandon’s pubes. “We’ve got special plans for that bush, Brandon.” The college boy just nodded, feeling his penis beginning to swell and stand up. He was pleasantly surprised to find himself growing aroused despite the humiliating situation he found himself in.

You’re doing fine, Brandon,” Don assured him. “You might as well get used to being naked – you’ll be spending most of your time either totally naked or wearing only a jock strap.”

Don once again turned the conversation to casual topics, unrelated to his plans for the next ten days, asking Brandon what kind of music he liked, his favorite foods, and so on. Relaxing, Brandon began noticing where they were headed and was surprised to find them not in the suburbs as he had expected, but instead driving along walled estates in Palm Beach. Eventually, the Range Rover slowed and turned into one of the estates, the gates gliding open at the press of a remote control button. Brandon was breathless as the Rover neared the mansion. He had expected either a ranch style house in the suburbs or maybe a modest place on the beach, but certainly not the imposing white marble building they were approaching.

Even though the estate was surrounded by a high wall, Brandon felt a twinge of self-consciousness walking up the steps of the house wearing nothing but a T-shirt. He hoped he wasn’t making too much of a fool of himself as he numbly followed Don on a tour of the house, his eyes wide in wonder. Don eventually came to a door leading downstairs, he placed his hand on the knob and turned to face Brandon.

“Downstairs is the play area,” Don said seriously. “This is the last chance to back out – say the word and you can spend the night here and I’ll have Jason take you to the airport in the morning. On the other hand, say the word and I’ll take you downstairs and begin your introduction to the world of voluntary slavery.” He stared hard at Brandon to impress the seriousness of his words. “I want you to understand this – if you choose to go through this door, it is the last choice you get to make during your visit here.”

Brandon met Don’s gaze evenly as he considered the man’s words. “I came this far and I’ve wanted to be a slave for a long time now,” Brandon said slowly. “I might as well go all the way. It’s the only way to know if this is what is right for me.” He turned his glance to the door and squared his shoulders. “I want to go through the door.”

Nodding, Don opened the door and led the way down the dark stairs as Jason followed close behind the slave trainee. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Brandon turned a corner and found himself not in a dungeon as he expected, but in a huge, well appointed family entertainment room. A widescreen television was mounted onto the far wall and several comfortable looking couches were scattered in a semicircle around the screen. Along three of the walls were the latest arcade video games. The fourth side of the room held a counter fronted by several bar stools. Behind the counter was a complete kitchen.

“This is where the boys gather when they come over,” Jason said. They can watch movies, play games, have a snack – pretty cool, isn’t it?”

“Sure is.”

“You’ll be meeting all the other boys tomorrow,” Don said. “I told them all about you and all of them are eager to meet you.” The look on Don’s face suggested meeting his other boys was going to be more than just a welcome party for Brandon. Don led Brandon down a hallway to another room. The second room was smaller with tiled floor and walls. A medical exam table dominated the center of the room, a tiled shower stall stood in one corner of the room. Don pushed Brandon towards the table and urged him to hop up onto it. Jason moved in and pulled Brandon’s T-shirt over his head, leaving him totally naked. Tossing the T-shirt to the other side of the room, Jason turned and pushed Brandon to back onto the table and quickly began strapping him down. A wide Nylon strap was pulled tightly across Brandon’s forehead, preventing him from lifting his head off the table. Two straps, one just above and one just below his nipples went over his chest, and were quickly joined by straps across his knees and ankles. Jason secured straps around each of Brandon’s wrists, pinning them to the table. As a finishing touch, a wide strip of surgical adhesive tape went over Brandon’s mouth, Opticlude eye patches were taped over his eyes, and his ears were covered with large headphones.

The headphones effectively cut off all sounds, preventing Brandon from hearing what was going on. Gradually, he became aware of a slowly increasing sound coming through the headphones – at first, he couldn’t identify the sound at all. As the volume increased, he realized he was listening to a recording of the surf crashing on the shore. Brandon couldn’t hear a thing happening in the room – all he could hear was the sound of the surf sounds coming through the headphones. He could feel the hands of the other two feeling his groin, he could feel his penis standing growing as it became engorged with blood and standing upright. Then, he felt a tickling, vibrating sensation around his groin. At first, he couldn’t imagine what was being done to him – and then it came to him, he was being shaved. His dense, curling badge of manhood was being stripped away from him. The tickling was caused by electric clippers, he realized. In his mind’s eye he could picture the clippers chewing their way through his precious bush – the bush that was the only thing that marked him as a full grown male. Because of his stature and slight build, he was always being mistaken for a young teen and now, he’d look like one as well. Suddenly, the image of him standing in the communal showers with a bare crotch in the dorm flashed into his mind – how was he going to explain that if anyone saw him when he returned to school? There wasn’t anything he could do to stop the shaving, so he’d have to get used to getting up at four in the morning to make sure he could shower unobserved.

The tickling vibrations stopped and a warm, wetness spread over his groin. That must be shaving crème, he thought. Moments later, he could feel the scrape of a razor against his flesh rendering him smooth and boyish again. After an indeterminate amount of time, the scraping stopped and Brandon could feel the straps around his knees and ankles being released. His legs were spread wide and lifted up before being strapped to some kind of supports, leaving his testicles exposed. He felt strong hands pulling and prodding his scrotum. The warm wetness returned and Brandon figured his balls were being shaved as well. Then, he remembered Don’s conversation about wanting a castrated slave. Sweat broke out across his brow – was Don preparing to castrate him right now? The tape across his mouth prevented him from calling out and protesting. He could feel a very soft towel wiping his scrotum and tensed waiting for the pain of the cutting to begin.

Nothing happened.

A cold wetness spread across his denuded crotch and the whiff of ammonia reached his nostrils. He had no idea what was going on now – if he was already shaved, there wasn’t any reason for Don and Jason to use a chemical depilatory on him. He tried to imagine what was happening, but just couldn’t think of what was being done now. Suddenly, he realized that no one was touching him now. Was he all alone in the room? His crotch began to tingle, a slight burning feeling making him want desperately to scratch his groin, but with his hands bound, he was helpless.

The rhythmic sound of the surf coming through the headphones lulled him and must have made him doze a bit. The next thing Brandon knew was the shock of feeling cool water being sprayed forcefully over his crotch. The mild burning disappeared instantly, as did the ammonia odor. The water flooded across his lower belly for a long time before it stopped as suddenly as it started. The soft towel began drying him off and was quickly replaced by a blast of hot air directed at his lower belly. Just when he thought his skin would be burned, the hot air stopped and another round of cold wetness filled his groin. Brandon decided this was some kind of very mild cock and ball play game. Don and Jason were alternating sensations on their new slave-in-training while he was deprived of the senses of sight and sound. They were playing a mind game with him – trying to see how he would react to not knowing what they were doing to him. He almost smiled under his adhesive tape gag – he would have, if the tape would have allowed it. He felt his muscles go slack as he relaxed – maybe he hadn’t even been shaved. He stopped thinking about what was going to come next and let the sound of the surf wash over him.

Some time later he was shocked out of his reverie by another blast of water directed towards his lower belly, neither hot nor cold, the water was almost exactly body temperature. Whoever was directing the spray of water, took care not to direct it right at his balls. Brandon figured that would really sting. Next comes the towel, he told himself, and that would be followed by the blast of hot air and maybe another round of the wet crème and water. Or maybe they would try something else to prevent him from anticipating a pattern. Sure enough, the soft towel gently wiped away the water dripping off his lower body moments before the blast of hot air was directed just above his penis.

Brandon readied himself for the next round of the game Don and Jason were playing, and was surprised to feel the straps being removed from his body. The Opticludes and tape across his mouth were left in place. Finally, the headphones were removed and he could hear Jason’s gentle voice again as the young man helped him to his feet.

“There you go, little guy,” Jason said, his hands on Brandon’s shoulders. “Just leave the blindfold in place,” he ordered when Brandon raised his hands to remove the coverings on his eyes. Jason took the young slave’s hands in his own and slowly guided him from the room and down the hall. The tiles felt cold under Brandon’s bare feet. Slowly, Jason walking backwards, the two of them made their way to another room – this one had a deep, soft carpet that felt delightful under Brandon’s bare feet. Jason stopped and carefully positioned Brandon making sure he was standing just so before removing the Opticlude dressings and the adhesive tape across the slave’s mouth.

The sudden onslaught of light made Brandon’s eyes water and he was forced to blink furiously for several moments before his vision cleared enough for him to see where he was. The walls of the room were covered in mirrors. Jason was still standing directly in front of him so he couldn’t see his own reflection, one hand still holding his chin firmly so he couldn’t look down. Grinning impishly, Jason moved to the side and let Brandon see his reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror. His mouth dropped open in shock and amazement.

He had been shaved – not entirely smooth, though. His pubic bush had been meticulously trimmed and shaped into a perfect triangle and then dyed a bright, shocking electric pink. He had a pink triangle pointing down at his penis! That pink pubic patch was worse than being shaved smooth – nobody in the dorm knew he was gay – one look at that triangle and everyone would know the minute they saw it.

“What do you think?” Don asked from the other side of the room.

“That’s going to be shaved off before I go back to school, right,” Brandon asked, his voice trembling a little.

“No, no it’s not,” Don said, smiling broadly. “And, you’re not going to shave it off, either. It took a lot of work to make that perfect, then bleach it out before we applied the dye. You’re going to keep that as a reminder of your new status.” Don crossed the room and ran his fingers appreciatively along the edges of the pink patch of pubic hair. “In fact, I want you to keep it perfectly trimmed until you come back here in the summer. I’ll even send some of the pink dye back with you so you can keep it fresh.”

“Yes, sir,” Brandon said, his blue eyes growing round with worry. “But, what if someone sees it when I’m in the shower?”

“So?” Don asked. “You seem to think that’s a problem.”

“Well, they’ll know I’m gay,” Brandon whined.

“Ah, you’re not out on campus.”

“Right – nobody at school knows I’m gay,” Brandon said, feeling relief that Don seemed to understand.

“And, you probably even deny being gay,” Don observed. “You try to pretend you’re a good little straight boy.” Brandon hung his head in shame, bright spots of red burning his cheeks. “That’s the problem – don’t be afraid of who or what you are, boy. That gives people an advantage over you. It lets them make you feel ashamed of who you are.” Don reached out, cupped the small young man’s chin and lifted his head up so the two were looking into each other’s eyes. “I’m not saying you need to act stupidly and risk getting into a physical confrontation – just stop denying who you are. If someone sees your badge and wants to know if you’re gay, admit it proudly.”

Biting his lower lip, Brandon nodded. Don’s words did make sense in a way – he did feel ashamed of pretending to others on campus that he was straight. Before any more words could be exchanged, Don pulled Brandon to his chest in a protective embrace, rocking him slightly and stroking the slave-trainee’s soft hair.

Don had originally planned to have Brandon wearing a jock strap at this point, but decided the slave-trainee could learn more of a lesson by being kept naked – he wanted to give the boy every opportunity to look down and see the pink triangle of pubic hair he now sported. He led the young man back up the stairs and out to the swimming pool. The three spent the next couple of hours swimming, splashing, and playing in the pool. Of course, Don and Jason took every opportunity to grab at Brandon’s balls and penis making the young man blush and giggle boyishly. Eventually, the three lay back on deck chairs, letting the late afternoon sun and sea breeze dry them. As Brandon relaxed, his eyes closed, Don gestured for Jason – pantomiming making a phone call. Grinning, Jason nodded and slipped inside to call for a pizza to be delivered. Going back out by the pool, he whispered to Don that the delivery should be made in less than an hour. Don gave Jason a wink and glanced down at his watch – he’s let the slave-trainee doze a little longer and then give him another test.

Half an hour later, Don folded a beach towel and placed it on the deck in front of him, calling for Brandon to wake up. Glancing around, blinking owlishly, Brandon quickly scrambled up and came over to Don’s side. Without a word, Don pointed down at the folded towel and waited. Brandon correctly guessed he was expected to kneel on the towel. Standing, Don lowered his trunks and for the first time exposed his seven inch penis to his potential slave. Brandon licked his lips eagerly and knelt there, his expectant blue eyes shining up at Don, waiting for permission to go to work on his penis. Don gave a curt nod, and pointed down at his cock. That was all the instruction Brandon needed – opening his mouth wide, he took Don’s erection in his mouth while reaching out to fondle the large testicles hanging beneath.

Don had to admit to himself the kid was good with his mouth. Brandon used his tongue and lips to tease Don’s cock, his only problem was that he was trying to work too fast. Reaching out, Don grabbed a handful of Brandon’s long blonde locks and used them as a handle to slow the college boy down – that was one good thing about long hair, Don thought. It made a good handle for controlling a slave. The kid was probably used to having to rush his way through oral sex to please his young and inexperienced partners who thought the whole purpose was just a quick way to get their jollies. A good blow job, Don mused, should leave the recipient sweaty and quivering from the long, slow climb towards climax. Brandon took guidance well, once Don had him slow down his pace, the boy took his time without speeding up again as so many trainees did. Brandon even managed to swallow all seven inches of Don’s cock without gagging or needing encouragement. Staring down at the tousled haired boy, Don had to smile at the expression on his face. Brandon’s eyes were closed and he had an expression of bliss across his delicate features – there was no doubt that the slave-trainee enjoyed giving head. Don’s balls were just beginning to churn when he heard the faint buzz coming from inside the house – the pizza delivery boy was at the gate. Straining to hear, Don could hear the mumble of Jason’s voice. He knew Jason had given the delivery boy instructions to bring the pizza to the back of the house because that was what they had planned together.

“Oh, fuck me.”

Hearing those words, Don turned his head to see the delivery boy standing in slack-jawed amazement at seeing Brandon on his knees blowing another man. Below him, Brandon’s eyes snapped open, a frightened expression filling those bright blue orbs. Don patted Brandon’s head once reassuringly and to his surprise, the young man continued the blow job. He was trembling and the fright didn’t leave his eyes, but he kept bobbing his head back and forth on Don’s erection. Don turned and glanced over at the delivery boy again – the kid was cute in a pretty boy way, his dark brown hair was cut in a long bowl cut style favored by a lot of the surf rats in the area. A smattering of freckles covered the delivery boy’s suntanned face and pert, up-turned nose. A leather thong with a polished shell hung around the teen’s neck – so far, aside from his first exclamation, he remained speechless, rooted to the spot by what he saw. Don threw back his head, moaning loudly in pleasure as he climaxed. Brandon increased his sucking and literally sucked Don’s dick dry. He rewarded the slave-trainee with a wink and pat on the cheek.

“Man is this guy good,” Don told the delivery boy. “Want to give him a try?”

“Um, I – ah, well,” the delivery boy was stammering all over the place.

“Look – enjoying a great blow job, probably the most fantastic one of your life, won’t make you gay, if that’s what you’re worrying about,” Don said, a seductive grin on his face. “Now, as for this one on his knees,” Don placed a hand on Brandon’s head, “there’s no denying he’s gay.” He waved the delivery boy closer. Despite the young man’s verbal protests, he quickly moved closer. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll make your tip fifty bucks if he can’t get you to blow your load in five minutes or less.”

The delivery boy looked from Don to the still kneeling Brandon, his eyes greedy at the thought of the money and the opportunity to get a blow job. Greed finally won the day and he scrambled to set the pizza bag down on the patio table and undo his uniform shorts. By the time he was standing in front of Brandon, the delivery boy’s shorts and underpants were down around his knees, exposing a nearly six inch long boner. Brandon glanced once at Don who nodded his approval before holding out his wrist to keep an eye on his watch. All Brandon needed was that one nod, he practically devoured the delivery boy’s thin dick. He’d heard Don’s wager and knew he wasn’t supposed to take his time on this one. Reaching up, Brandon began rubbing the pizza boy’s nipples as he worked his mouth furiously up and down the thin dick. It took less than a minute for Brandon to get the pizza boy trembling all over – he began to twist his head from side to side along the other teen’s twitching dick, furiously flicking his tongue over the head of the dick in his mouth. Unconsciously, the pizza boy reached out and grabbed Brandon’s head, digging his fingers deep into the mass of blonde locks under his fingers. Just as the second hand swept past the third minute, the pizza boy arched his back – nearly bending in half as he shot his load, gasping and groaning loudly.

“Three minutes and six seconds,” Don called happily. A look of pride briefly swept the look of humiliation from Brandon’s face.

“Oh my God,” the pizza boy whimpered, staggering over to a chair by the table. “I never felt anything like that.”

“Your first blow job, congratulations,” Don beamed. “You should feel what this boy can do if he takes his time and really gives you a ride.”

“You mean it can be better?”

“Better? He’s fan-fucking-tastic when he takes his time,” Don said proudly, as Jason came from the house carrying his wallet. Don took the offered wallet and pulled out several bills. “There’s twenty bucks there for you, and the price of the pizza.” He thrust the bills in the boy’s hand. “And, anytime you want another blow job, you know where to come.”

“You can be sure I’ll remember this address, man,” the pizza boy said enthusiastically, shoving the money into his pocket. “I’ll be sure to make every delivery you call in.”

Later, after the last remains of the pizza and the empty had been relegated to the trash, Jason found Don sitting behind the massive desk in his study. The wall safe normally hidden behind a bookshelf was gaping open, and Don had a pile of papers spread out on the desk.

“Where’s our boy?” Don asked.

“I left him down in the lounge playing a video game,” Jason said. “I told him to stay there until one of us came for him.”

“Good idea,” Don nodded. “I wanted to talk to you alone anyway.” He leaned back and regarded the young man across from him. “You were watching from the window earlier, right?”

“Wouldn’t have missed that for the world!”

“Thought not,” Don grinned. “Well, what do you think about the boy?”

“Aside from sucking cock, I don’t think he has much experience,” Jason said, slowly. “From what I saw with you and the pizza boy, he’s got a mouth to die for. I’m willing to bet he’s still cherry, though.” Don nodded his agreement, he was pretty sure Brandon had never been fucked, too. “Most trainees would have pouted and raised all manner of hell the minute they heard you expected them to keep their pubes trimmed in a triangle and dyed pink. He didn’t. And he sure as hell wanted to run and hide when the pizza boy came around the side of the house.”

“That’s true.”

“But, he didn’t,” Jason continued. “And, I’m sure you’ve noticed that after he stopped blushing, he didn’t even ask why you set him up like that. I think he’s got it figured out that was a test to see how worthy he was to become a real slave. He already knows the other guys will be here tomorrow and that he’s expected to remain naked almost all the time in the house.”

“So, what you’re saying is that he’s a keeper.”

“Fuck yeah,” Jason grinned hugely. “He’s a keeper alright. I think he already knows in his heart he wants to be owned totally.”

“That’s what I thought,” Don said. He waved a hand over the papers. “I’ve prepared a contract and ownership papers for him to sign – it’s not really legal, but I suspect having to sign a contract and papers stating that someone owns him will give him a sense of security.”

“Probably will,” Jason agreed. “So, what about the …” Jason made a snipping gesture with his fingers.

“Tomorrow’s Friday, first I’ll give him the papers to sign, then he’s going to meet the other boys,” Don said. “Once they’re gone, I’ll tell him that he gets castrated Saturday morning.”

“You think he’ll just give them up?”

“Oh, there’ll be some tears and begging I suspect,” Don said. “But, in the end, he’s going to climb up on the table all by himself and submit – especially if some or all of the others are there to watch.”

“You think?” Jason seemed dubious.

“Yeah, I do think so,” Don said confidently. “Deep in his mind he has this image of himself being a fantastic slaveboy – better than all the others. Maybe even better than you.” Don grinned. “He knows you’re not interested in being a slave, and since the other boys don’t live in full time, he knows they’re only playing at submission – but they’re too chicken to commit to total slavery. He’ll feel some humiliation at being castrated – hell, he’ll feel loads of humiliation. But when he sees the others protectively cover their precious jewels, he’ll also feel superior to them. He had the guts to do what they’re too fucking chicken to do.” Don leaned back in his leather executive chair. “Yeah, he’ll go through with the castration.”

Brandon had a new surprise awaiting him at bedtime – he wasn’t getting a guest room, he wasn’t getting a cot or even just a blanket on the floor. He was going to be sleeping between Don and Jason in a king sized bed. He’d never shared a bed with anyone before and wasn’t sure how’d he’d make out sleeping between two hunky males. It didn’t make any difference, he guessed. Don wanted him in the bed and so, that’s where he was expected to sleep. He was surprised to find that neither one expected him to provide them with oral sex, although both of them did enjoy tickling him, playing with his nipples, and stroking his new pink pubes for a long time before the three of them drifted off to sleep.

Brandon’s slave training began as soon as he woke up the following morning. He was expected to give Don a blow job before either one of them crawled from the bed. Jason propped himself up on one elbow and watched with amusement as Brandon’s head bobbed up and down on Don’s erection, taking his time as he’d been taught the day before. As soon as Don shot his load down the slave-trainee’s throat, he patted Brandon’s cheek and climbed out of the bed for his morning shower. Jason tapped Brandon on the shoulder and gestured down to his own twitching erection. Obediently, the college boy rolled over and took Jason’s thick dick in his mouth. He showed Jason the same degree of attention he had lavished on Don, showing he understood both men deserved the same amount of respect from a slave sharing their bed. Jason ran his fingers through Brandon’s thick and very soft blonde hair, stroking the slave-trainee’s head – usually, he found he had to guide a sub’s head while receiving oral sex, but that wasn’t the case with Brandon. He remembered his lesson from the previous day and took his time, his head bobbing up and down on Jason’s rod, a satisfied groaning – almost a purring sound – coming from his filled mouth. Jason’s back arched as his balls released their load just in time for Don to pad out of the bathroom and see the orgasm.

Don smiled in the direction of the two young men, and dressed – giving them both time to catch their breath. By the time he had a pair of jeans and polo shirt on, the other two had managed to regain some of their composure. Kneeling on the bed, Don gave Jason a passionate good morning kiss while ruffling Brandon’s hair. Pausing for a breath of air, Don pulled Brandon closer and presented him with an equally hot kiss by way of greeting the new day. Then, he hurried the two of them out of bed – giving Brandon’s tight ass a playful slap. Jason lingered for a couple of moments getting last minute instructions before dashing into the bathroom with Brandon.

Brandon had just lifted the lid on the toilet, his feet spread wide and was beginning to aim his dick towards the blue water in the bowl when Jason stopped him.

“Peeing standing up is what men do,” Jason said, putting the toilet seat down. For a moment Brandon was confused and then realized he was expected to sit down to relieve himself like a girl. Hot spots of color flashed on his cheeks briefly, but he dutifully sat and stared straight ahead, trying to ignore Jason’s presence. Jason made a show of lifting the seat when Brandon was finished and directing his stream of urine into the center of the bowl. The two young men shared a shower together with Jason washing the slave-trainee from head to toe, working his finger deep into Brandon’s ass.

Once out of the shower, Jason dried Brandon off with a fluffy towel before producing a blow dryer. He took his time meticulously blow drying Brandon’s hair, brushing the flowing locks out and creating a flawless but casual part on the right. Brandon was eager to see his reflection, but Jason lifted him onto the toilet seat and coated his groin in shaving crème. Jason carefully shaved away any signs of stubble around the triangular pink patch Don had created the day before. Brandon guessed that keeping the humiliating pink patch perfectly groomed would be a daily ritual.

The two young men strolled out onto the patio about an hour later to find Don engrossed in the morning paper, a steaming mug of coffee by his elbow. Lowering the paper, he tilted his head to indicate the seat he expected Brandon to take while Jason returned to the kitchen to prepare a hot breakfast. Jason returned some time later bearing a platter with cheese and crab omelets, toast, and a fresh carafe of coffee. Brandon couldn’t believe how delicious the omelets were – they were so light and fluffy and the filling was more incredible than anything he had ever tasted. Brandon started to clear the table when everyone was finished, figuring that if Jason cooked that he should be the one to clear the table. Don stopped him and told him to sit back down. It was Jason who quickly cleared the table, returning a few moments later with a fresh carafe of coffee and a folder. Don poured coffee for everyone and drew the folder over to him.

“I think it’s time we talked,” Don began, his fingers resting on the folder. “I’ll be honest with you – I am very impressed with your behavior so far. You’ve had a couple of things done to you that you weren’t totally comfortable with and that quite frankly, were a little humiliating.” Brandon lowered his eyes, seeing once again the startlingly pink triangular patch of pubic hair he was expected to keep – even back at the university. “You handled the situations well and showed you are eager to please and continue your training.” He paused and stared at the small blonde sitting across from him.

“Thank you,” Brandon finally said softly.

“I know that aside from sucking cock – which you do quite well, by the way, you don’t have a lot of experience and will need quite a bit of training,” Don continued. Brandon looked up, fright registering in his blue eyes. Don was looking for a gentle way to say he wasn’t going to take Brandon as his slave – he just knew it. Don wanted someone with more experience. “I want to be the one to train you – I want to be the one to make you a perfect example of an urban slave.”

“Thank you,” Brandon nearly cried, relieved to hear those words. He’d barely been here twenty-four hours and he already knew he wanted to be the slave Don had been looking for. He knew he could get used to being naked in front of strangers, and could accept the other training Don had in mind.

“But, what about your family?” Don asked. “Is it going to be a problem for you?”

Brandon snorted – his family a problem? He hadn’t been home since he was fifteen and his mother had remarried. His step-father didn’t want him around, and he certainly didn’t want anything to do with him. He had despised Brandon from the moment he had seen him – Brandon was too small and certainly not manly enough for his liking. Everyone thought it best that Brandon go right from boarding school to summer camp each year – especially after Brandon had admitted his sexuality to his family. That experience had taught him to keep his preferences to himself and shy away from making close friends – he felt safer with acquaintances. No, family wouldn’t be a problem for him – they would be glad to see him go away somewhere. As everything gushed out of the college boy, Don nodded – he’d heard similar stories in the past. He shrugged – some people were just assholes, and that’s all there was to it.

“So, it looks like the only question that remains is whether you are willing to commit yourself totally to the ownership of another man,” Don said, his fingers playing with the edge of the folder. “Before you say anything, you need to understand that this is for real – not some little game where we get our jollies and that’s it. Giving yourself over to be owned by me will mean that you no longer control any aspect of your life.”

Brandon thought carefully over what Don said. He had already seen just the briefest of hints of what could be in store for him with Don. He realized that at some point Don expected him to give up his balls as a sign of his slavery. He asked himself if he could deal with that, and realized that he didn’t really know. He decided he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. For most of his life, Brandon had felt that there was something missing from him. He had never felt totally complete – until yesterday. Sure, he had been humiliated beyond anything he had imagined by being forced to remain naked in front of a stranger, and even suck the stranger off. But, even while his cheeks burned with humiliation, deep inside Brandon had felt complete. It had felt right for him to be naked in front of the pizza boy. It had felt right for the pizza boy to see that pink patch of pubic hair. It had been right for the pizza boy to shove his cock into Brandon’s mouth.

Swallowing hard, Brandon nodded. “Yes, yes I can commit myself to your ownership,” he said clearly. “I want to be owned by you.”

Don smiled, and opened the folder showing Brandon the contract and ownership papers he had created for the boy. He insisted Brandon read every word and initial each paragraph as he read them. Brandon’s eyes widened as he saw words like branding, tattooing, piercing, and modifying as the owner of the human property saw fit. The college boy looked up in amazement when he read that the sum of twenty thousand dollars a year was to be deposited in an interest bearing account in his name. Don explained that was to guarantee that should anything happen to him, Brandon would be provided for financially until he got on his feet again. Brandon’s fingers were trembling as he signed and dated each of the papers before returning them to Don.

“That’s it then,” Don said, gathering the papers up and sliding them back in the folder. “You now belong to me, boy.” Standing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a length of steel chain. He affixed the chain around Brandon’s neck with a small padlock. “That will do for now, boy. Once we get your hair cut properly, we’ll lock a leather collar around your neck.”

Brandon felt a surge of warmth that he couldn’t explain flood through him as the chain went around his neck, and couldn’t help wondering how long before Don was going to cut his hair. He glanced over at Jason’s stylish hair and decided he could get used to that style without too much trouble. He also reminded himself that now, how he wore his hair was Don’s decision.

Brandon had expected everything to change dramatically once the contract and ownership papers had been signed. He didn’t know what to expect – maybe chained to a rack, or introduced to the whip, or something. Instead, Don announced that he had some business in town to tend and would be back sometime in the late afternoon. After helping Jason with a few chores around the house and grounds, Brandon found himself down in the entertainment room playing video games with Jason. Sensing the new slave’s confusion, Jason explained that things would get more interesting once the rest of the boys arrived later in the afternoon. Brandon was curious about what was going to happen, but Jason would only say that everyone was gathering for a kind of welcome party for the new member of the house. Ruffling Brandon’s hair, Jason leaned close and whispered that maybe Don would send out for pizza again and Brandon could give the delivery boy another generous tip in front of the rest of the boys. Brandon blushed at the thought of Don’s other boys watching – and probably hooting and jeering as they watched him suck a delivery boy’s cock.

Don returned a little before four o’clock, giving each of his houseboys a hug and peck on the cheek before suggesting it was almost time to get Brandon ready for meeting the other lads. Brandon found himself in the tiled room again, this time in the shower stall and being scrubbed down by Jason. As he had that morning, Jason took his time blow drying Brandon’s hair and brushing it so he was perfectly groomed. When he was finally satisfied with Brandon’s appearance, he led the new slave further down the hallway to another, much larger room.

Brandon almost gasped in wonder staring into the room. It was hard to tell exactly how large the room was because it was done entirely in black – floor, ceiling, and walls were all a uniform shade of black. Jason reached along the wall to open a panel with lighting controls. Turning a couple of dimmer switches, he brought up a dim light from four baby spotlights towards the center of the room. He guided the slave-trainee to the center of the room where Brandon found there were two black columns running from floor to ceiling. The poles were widely spaced apart and Jason positioned Brandon in the center of the two columns, ordering him to stay where he was.

Brandon couldn’t help turning his head to see where Jason was headed as he crossed the room. Jason opened another hidden panel and disappeared into what must have been a large closet, or maybe even a small room. He returned a few minutes later carrying a canvas bag that he set down at Brandon’s feet. He didn’t say a word as he drew leather wrist and ankle cuffs from the bag and quickly buckled them around the slave-trainee’s limbs. Next, Jason produced lengths of chain and attached one to each of Brandon’s wrists. The free ends of the chains were attached to rings on the columns forcing Brandon’s arms to be spread wide at shoulder height. Stepping to the side of the column, Jason pressed a button and Brandon found the rings in each column began to rise, forcing his arms higher and higher until his arm pits were completely exposed. Next, chains were attached to the ankle cuffs as Jason spread the college boy’s legs apart – Jason made a couple of adjustments to the wrist chains to make sure Brandon was as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.

Once he had Brandon spread-eagled, Jason reached into his pocket and drew out a wide roll of adhesive tape. He instructed the college boy to press his lips tightly together as he pulled off a length of the white tape. Brandon obediently pressed his lips together as Jason once again applied a tape gag to his face. With the gag pulled tight, Jason cupped Brandon’s face in his hands and patted the boy gently.

“The other boys are going to be arriving here soon,” Jason told the slave. “All of them know a little bit about you and are eager to meet you. They’re sure to tease you a bit when they find you like this – but it’s all in fun. They’re allowed to touch you and pretty much have some fun with you. But, none of them are allowed to touch your asshole. They know that, so it shouldn’t be a problem.” Jason smiled down at the college boy. “Just remember this, you belong to Don and that makes you special, and these boys know that, too.” Brandon tried to give Jason a little smile beneath the tape gag and nodded his head to show he understood. “The room is climate controlled, so you should be pretty comfortable in here.”

As Jason left the room, Brandon realized that he had been positioned with his back to the door, so there was no way he could see who was coming into the room. Just because he was helplessly bound, he realized suddenly had an itch on the tip of his nose – aside from that, he found he was pretty comfortable. He had a little bit of slack in the chains connecting his arms to the columns, so he could move them a small amount and alleviate cramps. Silence filled the room – Brandon couldn’t even hear the air conditioning, even though he could feel the cool breeze blow over his naked body from time to time. He lost track of the time and began to wonder if had been chained to the columns for just a quarter of an hour, or if it had already been hours and hours. Suddenly, he heard voices laughing and shouting out in the hall approaching the room he was in. He could tell there were at least two people headed his way, but he couldn’t tell if there were more than two approaching.

“Whoa! Look at that tight ass!” A young voice behind him shouted gleefully. Footfalls and giggles filled the room as the newcomers made their way towards Brandon. Then, they were in front of him – wide grins spread across their faces. Brandon could tell they were brothers – the older one appeared to be about seventeen or eighteen, while the younger one was about fifteen. Both were dressed in baggy shorts, and over-sized T-shirts, with sneakers covering bare feet. To Brandon, they looked like the average beach rat type. Their light brown hair was buzzed short all over, except for long floppy bangs. The younger one’s bangs reached to the tip of his nose and were bleached almost white.

“Bro! Check out the pubes!” The younger one shouted, gleefully. He stood toe to toe with Brandon and ran his slender fingers over Brandon’s pink pubic patch, giggling as he did. “Check them out, Jimmy – it’s really soft.”

Jimmy joined his younger brother in inspecting Brandon’s naked body, running his tanned fingers all over the chained slave. He rolled Brandon’s nipples between his fingers, grinning at how hard they became almost instantly. “Nice nips, too, Jere,” Jimmy said, twisting a little harder. He leaned in close to Brandon’s face, “You like having these two little rosebud nipples worked on, boy?” He looked at Brandon and then at his brother, Brandon was clearly the smaller of the two. “Shit, Jere – Jason said the new boy was nineteen and you’re bigger than he is.” He grabbed Brandon’s dick and pulled on it. “Hell, your dong is even bigger.”

Before long, more of the boys began pouring into the room – all of them were dressed pretty much the same way in baggy shorts or jeans and over-sized T-shits. Some were around Brandon’s age, while others were clearly younger – and, all had short haircuts. There were some with regular buzzcuts, a couple sporting crewcuts with bumpers, a couple of Ivy League styles similar to Jason’s, and even two flattops. There were at least a dozen boys standing around teasing Brandon about his pink pubes, poking, prodding, and running their fingers over his body. Brandon couldn’t help blushing at all the attention and jeering remarks, but he realized none of the words were delivered in a mean-spirited way.

“Well, I see you’ve all met Brandon,” Don’s voice called genially from the doorway. “And, I can see you’ve all welcomed him to our little group in your own boisterous way.” Brandon heard two sets of footsteps approach him. Don moved out in front of Brandon, while Jason stood behind the slave and casually draped his arm over Brandon’s shoulder.

“How come he gets to keep his bush, and we couldn’t keep ours?” Jere piped up.

“You call what you had a bush?” Don laughed, causing the other boys to giggle and poke Jere. “That collection of individual hairs you had down there didn’t even qualify as a small shrub.” Don turned around and stroked Brandon’s altered pubic patch. “Besides, he didn’t get to keep his bush – not like it was when he arrived here, anyway. This is his reminder of his special status with us – Brandon us going to be my personal property.”

“Like a slave?” A gorgeous Hispanic asked.

“Yes – he is my house slave,” Don agreed. “And that means there are a few rules with regard to Brandon. First, you can all play around all you want with him – but respectfully. Second, his ass belongs to me and to me alone. Anyone forgets that rule will learn a lesson that none of you want to learn.” Brandon noticed all of the boys glance down at their feet nervously. “Okay, we understand each other – so let’s move along. As you can all see, Brandon here doesn’t exactly have what you’d call a hairy body. But, it’s still not smooth – so, he’s all yours. Break out the lather and disposable razors and show him how smooth a boy he should be.” Laughing and jeering in a good-natured way, the boys scrambled for the closet Jason had disappeared into earlier. “Remember,” Don called. “No one touches his pubes.”

The group of boys returned carrying cans of shave crème in one hand and disposable razors in the other, plain white towels thrown hastily over their shoulders. The Latino carried a basin of water with him. In no time at all, Brandon was surrounded by the laughing, joking boys and being covered in shaving cream by eager young hands. In minutes, his body from the neck down was almost entirely covered in white foam. Only his triangular pink patch of pubis hair remained free of the shaving crème. A dozen new disposable razors began stroking their way across his body, creating furrows of smooth flesh in the foam. The taller boys worked on his underarms and arms, while the shorter ones scrapped away at his legs and buttocks. A couple of the boys were even shaving Brandon’s back. With such a commotion going on around him, Brandon was amazed that he hadn’t been nicked even once. The razors were rinsed clean in the basin provided by the handsome Latino and went right back to work, stripping almost every hair from Brandon’s body. Finally, the shaving was finished, and Brandon found himself being rubbed briskly all over with the towels as the boys wiped away the last traces of the shaving crème. Stepping back as a group, the stood in front of the bound boy grinning at him, proud they had stripped him of the last of his body hair.

Jason directed a couple of the boys to clean up the shaving materials, following them into the closet. He returned with them a few moments later carrying a black case. Brandon noticed that even though the boys grew quiet, they were almost quivering with anticipation glancing from the black case in Jason’s hand to Brandon and back again. Don stepped up next to Brandon and turned to face the rest of the boys.

“You all know the rules about grooming,” Don said, looking them over. “And, it is clear that Brandon here doesn’t even come close to meeting those standards.” He reached out and stroked Brandon’s soft hair. “So there’s no question that he needs a haircut,” Don paused and looked pointedly over at Jere, “and there are a couple of you who need a trim, as well. But, we’ll take care of that later. I spent a lot of time today considering exactly what kind of haircut Brandon should get – as I told you, he’s special among you. He’s giving himself over to be owned totally, and so he deserves a special haircut to denote that status.” Brandon would have sighed with relief if he didn’t have a tape gag across his mouth. A special haircut among this group could only mean that he’d probably be getting a tapered medium length cut like Don’s. “In the days of Ancient Rome, slaves were often shaved bald.” Brandon’s blue eyes nearly popped out of his head as he turned his head in Don’s direction, the other boys began snickering and poking each other in the ribs. “Since Brandon is now my slave, I think he deserves to be totally bald – just like those slaves of Ancient Rome. I see some of you giggling – but remember this, Brandon’s bald head is a badge of honor. He has the guts to do what very few others are brave enough to do – submit himself totally to someone else’s control.”

Don glanced over to Jason who opened the case revealing professional barber equipment nestled snugly in the case. Don picked up the black-cased heavy duty clippers and plugged them in at the base of the column. Turning back to Brandon, Don smiled at the look of fear and resignation on his new slave’s face. Reaching out, Don took the slave’s long, floppy bangs in his left hand and pulled them upwards. His right thumb slid up the side of the clipper housing, turning the clippers on. There was a loud SNAP as the motor came to life, followed by a steady humming. He stared into those intense, blue eyes for a few moments and smiled when Brandon cast his eyes down towards the floor. Lowering his left hand slightly, Don was pleased to find Brandon lower his head in submission. Don touched the clippers against his slave’s forehead and let them rest there a moment before pushing them straight back. The hungry clippers cut through the golden locks like a hot knife through butter. Releasing his grip on Brandon’s bangs, the middle section of the floppy fringe dropped straight to the floor, joining the rain of fair locks. Reaching the crown of Brandon’s head, Don lifted the clippers and turned them off.

“Jere, come over here,” Don called. Raising his head, Brandon noticed the young beach rat nervously step over to stand by Don, pushing his floppy bangs off his face. “Your birthday was the other day – so, I’m going to give you a little present.” He handed the clippers over to the youth. “You have the honor of clipping the rest of Brandon’s hair off to get him ready for his first shave.”

“Kewl!” Jere was clearly excited to be singled out for the honor, his face was split into a wide grin as he took the heavy clippers from Don’s outstretched hand. Standing toe to toe with the slave, Jere was clearly about five inches taller than Brandon. Licking his lips eagerly, Jere clicked the clippers on. A tear of humiliation formed in the corner or each of Brandon’s eyes as he lowered his head once again. Jere placed the clippers against Brandon’s right cheek and pushed them straight up, sending golden locks falling to the floor around the slave’s feet. Ducking under Brandon’s already denuded arm, Jere worked his way around to the back of the college boy’s head buzzing away the flowing locks that had always made Brandon stand out.

Brandon had spent his entire life cultivating his head of hair – it had never been shorter than mid-ear length in his life. He had carefully shampooed, conditioned, and groomed his blonde locks, letting only the best stylists he could find style his precious mane. And now, that mane was being buzzed off in minutes by a teen younger than himself. With his head bowed, Brandon could see the growing piles of his hair around his feet. All too soon, the clippers were turned off and Brandon felt the teen rubbing his hands over the stubble that the clippers had left in their wake. Behind him, Brandon heard a ‘whooshing’ sound, and felt the cold, wetness of shaving crème being sprayed onto his head. Strong hands massaged the foam into the carpet of golden fuzz that remained on his scalp. He felt a fresh razor glide over his head from front to back in a single pass. It was dropped to the floor by his feet and a new razor made the second pass. Whoever was doing the shaving wanted to make sure that only the sharpest and freshest blades were used to get as close a shave as possible. It didn’t take long before twenty-five disposable razors littered the floor in front of Brandon and he felt a soft cloth wiping his head clean.

Brandon raised his head and found Don standing with the other boys – that meant Don had had Jason do the shaving. The shaven slave hoped his eyes didn’t look too wet – he knew a few tears had rolled down his face, but could find some solace in the fact that he hadn’t gotten hysterical or even broken down in sobs. If Brandon thought his ordeal was over, he quickly learned he was wrong. He felt a warm liquid being poured on the top of his head. Before any of the liquid could run down his face, Jason began massaging it into his bare scalp. The oily liquid smelled familiar and Brandon finally realized his head was being coated in baby oil. He figured the oil was being used to make his bald scalp shine and was surprised to feel the scrape of a razor over his head again. Jason was shaving him a second time, and this time he was shaving against the direction of hair growth. After making the last pass, Jason wiped the new slave’s head with a warm washcloth.

“Feels perfect,” Don said, stepping up and running his hands over Brandon’s denuded skull. To Brandon’s surprise, he found himself getting aroused from the contact. His head had been covered in hair all his life which had acted as a mild barrier to physical stimulation. Now that his head was bare, there was nothing to cushion his skin from stimulation. His penis began to twitch and then grow hard as Don ran his fingers all over Brandon’s scalp. The assembled boys began giggling and teasing him all over again, but Brandon didn’t care. He was too engrossed in the excitement he was feeling – he didn’t even worry about what he would tell his friends when he got back to school. That didn’t matter right now – the only thing that mattered was the fantastic feeling he was experiencing. His penis was twitching and leaking, dripping onto the floor and Brandon didn’t care who saw or what kind of jeers he received, he was enjoying himself too much.

While Don was playing with his slave’s scalp, Jason made a couple of the boys gather up the discarded razors and sweep Brandon’s hair into a pile on the floor in front of the slave. Jason then disappeared into the closet and returned carrying several leather straps. Smiling broadly, Don took the first strap, which turned out to be a leather collar and buckled it around his slave’s neck. He adjusted the collar so that the O-ring was hanging at the front of Brandon’s throat. A wide leather strap was connected to the O-ring and adjusted so that it hung down the middle of his chest. That strap was attached to a belt that was pulled snugly around his waist and buckled behind his back. Brandon felt another surge of excitement feeling the leather against his smooth body – from the silence of the other boys, he could tell they were impressed as well. All of them were openly rubbing their crotches, some of them had their hands shoved under the waistbands of their shorts and jeans.

Don stepped back and stared down the line of boys. He pointed at the Latino and ordered him to step over to the slave. Brandon once again got to admire the young man up close. His jet black hair was faded so tight on the sides and back, that it was almost shaved. His hair was about two inches long, lightly gelled and combed over neatly. Don didn’t say a word – he just pointed to a point a few inches in front of the bound slave. The Latino glanced once into Brandon’s eyes and grinned before sinking to his knees, reaching out and kneading the slave’s balls.

“Go ahead,” Don said simply.

“I wonder if Baldy tastes as sweet as he looks,” the Latino said with a sly grin. Brandon stared down as the young man leaned forward and took the slave’s penis in his mouth. Brandon almost shot his load as soon as he felt his penis engulfed by the Latino boy’s hot, velvety mouth. Usually, he was the one doing the sucking and so, had received very few blow jobs from others. He twisted and writhed in his bonds as the dark-haired boy performed magic on the small penis in his mouth. The Latin brought Brandon to the brink of blowing his load and stopped, grinning up wickedly. He sat back on his heels and stared up at the slave, his dark eyes full of mischief. He waited until Brandon’s dick began to soften slightly before going back to work on it. He flicked his tongue rapidly over the very tip of Brandon’s penis, driving the slave into another frenzy. As he did the first time, the Hispanic youth backed off before Brandon was permitted relief. He took the slave to the brink of orgasm a third, fourth, and fifth time before finally letting him shoot his load.

Had Brandon not been gagged, he would have thrown his head back in a primal scream of joy. He’d never been teased to orgasm before and the feeling was beyond anything he could begin to describe. He thought his dick was never going to finish pumping out the huge load he had shot down the Latino’s throat. When his dick finally stopped jerking and twitching, he sagged in his bonds, his head lolling limply forward in exhaustion.

Jason stepped forward and released Brandon’s right arm from the chain holding it up. He left the leather cuff in place and attached it to a small D-ring on the belt around the slave’s waist. He repeated the process with Brandon’s left arm before releasing the young man’s ankles from their restraints. Jason allowed Brandon to stretch a bit before forcing him to his knees. Feeling something soft, silky, and fluffy beneath his knees, Brandon glanced down to find he was kneeling on the pile of his hair – the very hair he had lovingly cared for and groomed all his life was now serving him one last time as a kneeling cushion.

Don gave the other boys permission to check out Brandon’s freshly shaved head, and the slave braced himself for an onslaught of two-dozen hands patting and rubbing his smooth scalp. Don’s twelve boys crowded around the new slave, but instead of using their hands to rub his bald head, they all quickly drew their dicks from their shorts jostling and jockeying for position around the kneeling slave. All of them had cocks larger than Brandon’s. The boys shouted in glee and surprise at how smooth the slave’s head felt against their sex tools, it didn’t take long before Brandon felt his scalp getting wet and sticky from the pre-cum of the twelve boys. He expected at least one of them would be wanting a blow job, but none of them did – each began pumping his organ and splattering the slave’s head with their sperm. The spunk of a dozen teens pooled and puddled on the slave’s head before dripping down over his face, the sides and back of his head.

Don herded the other boys out of the room while Jason efficiently cleaned Brandon’s head and face with a warm washcloth. Helping the small slave to his feet, Jason quickly ripped the tape gag from his mouth and removed the wrist cuffs.

“How’re you doing so far?”

“Okay, I guess,” Brandon said, rubbing his hand over his scalp. He still couldn’t believe the thick mane of hair was gone, and was still amazed at how alive his bald scalp felt.

“Miss your hair, I guess,” Jason observed.

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

“I’m sure it was a hell of a shock to you,” Jason said, gently rubbing Brandon’s head. “But, you handled it well. I’m proud of you and so is Don.”

“Really?”

“Hell yes!” Jason laughed. “Carlos, the boy who sucked you off, begged to keep his hair and cried when the clippers plowed over his head – and he didn’t even get his head shaved. Don just gave him a buzz cut the first time.” Brandon felt better about himself. “You should have seen the tears rolling down his face when Don buzzed his shoulder length hair off.”

“Well, I cried a little bit, too.”

“You had tears in your eyes,” Jason countered. “That’s a lot different from crying like a baby. You did a great job, be proud of that.”

“Um, I suppose I’ll have to go back to school shaved smooth?” Brandon asked, still rubbing his bald head, and hoping Jason would tell him that Don would be letting him grow his hair out again.

“Yep – you sure will,” Jason laughed. “And keep your head shaved clean every day.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

“Let’s join the others,” Jason said. “Don’s got a little test for you.”

Jason refused to let the slave know what Don had in mind as a ‘little test’ and just smiled wryly as he led Brandon down to the entertainment room. The boys were watching television, playing video games, and helping themselves to refreshments when the two entered the room. Brandon was surprised by the friendly greetings he got from them when they noticed his arrival. Don came from behind the bar and lifted Brandon off his feet in a bear hug, kissing his cheek.

“You behaved beautifully back there,” Don said, setting Brandon back on his feet. “Now, I have a little reward for you.” Putting his fingers in his mouth, Don whistled loudly to get everyone’s attention. “Listen up, guys. You all watched as young Jere buzzed off Brandon’s hair – and everyone can see that Jere’s is in need of a trim himself. Those bangs are way too long. So – it’s Jere’s turn to get a trim.” Don waved Jere over to where Brandon stood. The young teen shuffled reluctantly over, clearly not eager to risk his hair to Brandon. Don pulled a pair of barber’s shears from his pocket. He handed them over to his slave. “There you go – Jere’s bangs are all yours. You can cut them a little shorter, a lot shorter, or cut them totally off. The choice is all yours.” Don backed away, drawing Jason with him. The two watched the scene unfold closely.

Jere stood trembling in front of Brandon, looking apprehensively from the scissors to Brandon’s face. The other boys had started shouting suggestions – most wanted the slave to just chop Jere’s floppy bangs totally off, a couple went as far as suggesting Jere should have his head shaved, too. The fifteen year old looked close to tears at those suggestions. Brandon reached out and stroked the teen’s prized bangs.

“Sounds like most the guys want to see Jere lose those bleached locks,” Don called. “Let’s make it interesting – if you decide to cut his bangs totally off, Jere will get his head shaved as well.”

Brandon’s fingers tightened on the teen’s bangs – maybe Don would let him shave Jere bald. It would be kind of a poetic justice for the teen who had so eagerly buzzed off his own hair. Brandon could still see the delight in Jere’s face as he wielded those clippers. He unconsciously opened the closed the scissors a couple of times. He looked over the other boys in the room and noticed that none of them were buzzed close to the scalp induction style, and certainly, he was the only one who was shaved bald. He remembered Jason saying Don was going to test him and thought about what Don had said about deciding Brandon should be bald – that was the sign of a slave. Brandon turned his attention back to the teen in front of him. Jere’s eyes were already filled with tears and were ready to brim over. Brandon smoothed the teen’s bangs out. The bleached locks reached just below the tip of the frightened teen’s nose. Carefully, Brandon snipped the bangs even with Jere’s eyebrows straight across his forehead. Jere was obviously relieved by Brandon’s choice.

“You had a chance to get another boy shaved,” Don observed a few minutes later as the two of them sipped a soda. “Why didn’t you take it?”

“I thought about it,” Brandon admitted. “But, you said a shaved head is the mark of a slave and Jere isn’t a slave. And you should have seen his face – the poor kid was ready to cry. I couldn’t do that to him – it wouldn’t have been fair.”

Don pulled his slave close and kissed the bald head. “You showed compassion and fairness,” he whispered. “I’m proud of you.” He dropped his hand to Brandon’s crotch, cupping the slave’s balls. “Tomorrow, I’m making you my personal property for good.”

Brandon’s mouth went suddenly dry. He knew instantly what Don had in mind – he had known Don had been serious in their e-mails, but he had always thought the castration was going to happen some time in the distant future, not right away. He looked down at his balls, and realized that they weren’t really his anymore. He had signed them away when he signed the slave contract and ownership papers earlier in the day. No, that wasn’t true – he had given them up when he agreed to meet Don. Deep down, he had known he would do whatever he needed to do to become Don’s slave and Don had been upfront about his intentions. If he had to be castrated, it was probably better to get it over and done with as soon as possible. He gulped and nodded to Don. “Will it hurt?” he asked.

“No, the operation won’t hurt at all,” Don assured him. “You’ll be a bit uncomfortable for a couple of days healing, but nothing bad.”

“Let’s get it over with,” Brandon said, hoping he looked half as confident as he wanted to sound.

To be continued.