I've only ever had a handful of regrets. Mine was the type of life many wished for. But it wasn't just because I was lucky. I was careful in my actions. I was proud to say that I was the reason for my success; I was never too rash to do something stupid, never too hesitant to miss the things I wanted. That didn't mean everything always went the way I wanted. There were a few times when I thought things should have gone differently.
I regretted losing Ashleen. Our time together was the best I'd ever had. With her, it didn't matter if I was athletic or popular. It was enough that I made her happy and that she did the same for me. I never suspected that I could be the type to fall so far down the pit of love. Maybe if I had been as detached as I normally was, I wouldn't have lost her. At the very least I wouldn't feel like a gutted man, living life without my essential organs.
Ashleen and I met up at the park. She broke the news to me behind mental walls she'd put up. It was as if she was totally detached from the whole thing, and that made it so much worse. I was wrong to think that was the lowest things would get for me. After the events that transpired in John's basement, I went home in a daze, dark emotions swirling in my stomach. Without any distractions, the weight of it all pushed down on me. Ashleen had moved on so quickly and she did so with Alan. How could either of them do that to me?
But then, how could I have done what I did to Alan? As careful as I usually was, there were times when I would act out of character. It reminded me of a time when I was much younger.
The first time I'd ever hung out with John, we were both six. He pushed up a chair to my kitchen stove and said, "look at this!" Smiling back at me with teeth missing and an impish glint in his eyes. He turned one of the knobs on the surface of the stove and, after a crack of spark met gas, flames danced up from beneath the metal plate.
My mom warned me about playing with fire, and her voice resonated in me, warning me. But I ignored it. I stood up by John on the chair, mesmerized by flames. I was in awe that he could bring such a thing to exist just as grownups could. He said, "touch it!" and I did. I brought my hand forward and even though I felt the heat, I brought my fingers toward the plate and pressed down confidently on metal.
I'd never felt anything so painful before. When I yelled out, John look surprised. We both fell from the chair. My mom came rushing into the kitchen with a crazed look on her face and put my hand under cold water. She cursed herself for leaving us to use the bathroom. But she probably blamed John just as much. She never really did like him. To her, he was the bad influence that could corrupt her son. She warned me to be careful around him, to make my own decisions. Most of the time I did, but sometimes I just wanted to impress the boy who could make fire.
I imagined that was part of the reason for my actions. I grasped at that, trying to blame John instead of myself. Really, it was mostly me. When John told me that Alan had been fucking around with my girl, my anger had been palpable. It was like a thick sweltering cloud over my head. I couldn't think properly, I saw everything through tinted eyes. I couldn't be blamed for what I did. It was Ashleen. I just..
I just wanted to believe that. I made it back to my house, lay in my bed, and stared blankly as the ceiling fan whipped around. In truth, Alan didn't deserve what he got. That's what my conscience told me. But I still couldn't bring myself to fully accept that. As bad as it was, I should have felt worse than I did. What did that say about me? I wondered. There was only one thing I cared about, then. One thing I needed to understand.
I picked up my phone and dialed her number. The motion was perfunctory, I half believed that I was dreaming.
"You should stop calling me," Ashleen answered.
"You should stop picking up." I said. I couldn't recognize my voice. "...why?" I croaked.
"Why what? Why do I pick up the phone? I don't know."
"Why... with Alan."
She was silent for a long time. It must have been true then. I realized that part of me was hoping that it wasn't. That part dissolved quickly—a painful process.
"Just leave it, Theo." She said with some finality. I could tell she was turning off her emotions. Ashleen was good at that.
"I don't want you to see him again," I could hear the anger boiling up in my tone.
"I know it sucks, Theodore. I'm not sure how you found out... But you'll just have to move on, ok? Take care of yourself."
She hung up.
How could she not understand? Did she actually like Alan? The guy didn't care about her; he cared about getting his rocks off. I had to protect her from that, even if she didn't care about me anymore. Despite what my conscience told me, I didn't feel bad about what I did to Alan. He deserved what he got.
***
Having a slave had its benefits. I realized that for the first time after my intense workout at home one summer evening in July, seven days after I realized Alan deserved the worst treatment I could muster. I'd worked up a nice sweat and felt pretty good after my two hour session. Alan came crawling up to me, begging with his eyes to do his duty. I slapped him around a bit before I allowed him to have what he wanted. Once he looked thoroughly embarrassed, I traced the inside of my shorts with both thumbs and pulled them down.
My cock was already hard from expectation (this had been our routine for a few days now), and it smacked him on the face when it was freed from my underwear. As usual, Alan sat there on the ground, dumbfounded, mouth open. He was no doubt admiring the vision before him. My perfect body, rippling with muscles and gleaming with sweat, and my massive cock standing at attention waiting for service. "Get to it, bitch." I commanded.
It was the only prompting he needed. At first, I had to kick him around quite a bit before he would let me use his mouth. Now, he moved forward, opening wide to take in all my girth. I sighed when his wet tongue found the bottom of my shaft, but I wanted more, and he was going too slow. I grabbed a fistful of his dark hair in both hands and forced him deeper onto my cock. I don't know why he was so hesitant about it. He hardly even gagged anymore. John and I trained this slut pretty well.
I discovered that I loved getting head right after a workout. My ex had always been disgusted by the idea, and refused to even touch me until I had taken a shower. But Alan knew to take my cock whenever I told him to, no questions asked. And he took my cock all the way down and I made sure to choke him with it a couple times, just so he wouldn't forget who was in control.
When I finally came, I saw stars. I kept humping his face as I shot off streams of my massive load in his mouth. The cockslut started to choke and spilled my seed all over his chin and on the floor. Needless to say, I was pissed. I had given him the gift of my manly nectar and he was wasting it. "You dumb little fag! Clean it up." I said.
He licked his lips, used a hand to gather up my thick cream on his chin, and then licked that hand clean. He missed some. I pushed him down with my foot, forcing him to the ground. He looked at the tiny puddles of my shining seed and proceeded to lick that up as well. Seriously. How low was this slut willing to go?
Feeling great after working out my muscles and my cock, I went to the bathroom and turned on the water, nice and cool. Alan followed behind on all fours. When I finally had enough water for a bath, I dipped in and reclined in the tub with my knees sticking up out of the water just a bit. Alan knew his job and proceeded to lather shampoo in his hand. He massaged my scalp, thanking me for letting him clean my perfect body.
I just sat there and enjoyed as he worked every part of my body with his hands, massaging and washing me, one of his masters. He was completely under my control. There was no one here to help him; my parents were going to be out of town for the rest of the month. I never told Alan that though. I wanted him to believe that this treatment could last for only so long. But it could go on for as long as I wanted, the only exception being when John wanted to use him.
I started to get hard again thinking of all the things I wanted to do to Alan. After sleeping with the only girl I ever loved, he deserved every bit of humiliation I could dish out. Dominating him sexually was the most amazing feeling, and there was no way for him to come back from it. He had been my friend for a long time up to this point, always competing with me and trying to make me look bad. But it was hard to believe that that same guy was now lovingly running his hands over my abs and saying, "your body is so amazing, master."
After drying me off and getting me some fresh clothes to wear, I told him to go downstairs to the kitchen to make me some dinner. But first, I had him open his mouth and I started to stuff my dirty jockstrap inside. "I want you to suck on this while making my food," I explained. "I know how much you need the taste of my cock in your mouth, bitch."
It was the first time he protested in a long time. He stepped back and spit the jock out onto the bathroom tile. "Goddammit, dude... would you please quit it with this nasty shit? Haven't you had enough yet?"
I hated when he tried to talk to me as if we were still equals.
After John and I owned him that first time in John's basement, he was completely under our control. John had kept Alan at his house the whole weekend, having him do all his chores and using his body as often as he wanted. When I came over Monday evening after another baseball game, John had me sit down on the couch in his basement, with Alan on the ground, silent. I wondered how he got Alan to go along with this but he quickly explained.
John had taped our first session with his dad's camcorder, hiding it discreetly on a bookshelf. He plugged the camera into his t.v. and we watched our homemade porno. He had expertly placed the camera in a way that neither he nor I could be recognized, but Alan was in full view. He'd done a good job for someone who was normally such a dumb jock.
"Now this dumbass has to do whatever we tell him to do or this video is going out to all his little girlfriends." John had said.
