That night, I slept peacefully up until the moment I was awakened by a sound from the corner of the room. Taking the small flashlight from the night table, I walked to Danny's sleeping quarters, and there discovered him kneeling, peeing into his jar. When the beam of light shone on him, he recoiled and looked up.
"You woke me, Danny," I said, holding the flashlight to his face. Danny squinted, looking up towards me, an expression of alarm on his face. His penis was still in the jar, dangling above the collected urine.
"I'm so sorry, sir," he said. "I tried to be quiet. I..."
"No, danny. You didn't. You just assumed that I wouldn't hear. Correct?"
"Yes, sir. Yes. I tried to aim for the side of the jar so that there would be no splashing sound, but I couldn't see and..."
"Shut up for a moment, Danny," I said, "and I'll tell you where you went wrong. Okay?" I said. I wasn't in the mood for any lame-ass excuses.
"Okay, sir." Danny said. He presented such a pitiable figure with his jar of pee, his scrawny penis, and the belt marks interlaced on his pale skin. He hung his head despondently.
"First, you use the camp light I thoughtfully provided for you, so that you can see what you're doing," I began, as though explaining to a mentally compromised person how to safely cross the street.
"I didn't... I didn't want the light to disturb you, sir! I thought I could..."
"You need to think less, and do what I tell you. Understand?" I said, cutting him off.
"Yes, sir."
"So, here's what you do next time, Danny. You cover the light with the blanket, turn on the light, lift a corner of the blanket... are you following me here, faggot?"
"O, yes sir! I'm... I'm following sir!"
"Lift a corner so that some light - got that?, some light gets out. Then, Danny, holding the blanket in that position, you get your jar so that it's in that beam of light, and then you will be able to see what you're doing. Make sense?"
"It does, sir. I should have..."
"Shut up and show me how you will do it next time," I said.
He followed my instructions to the letter. The urine flowed along the side of the jar noiselessly despite Danny's shaking hands.
"Good boy," I said. "That's a good fag boy."
I spent the rest of the night undisturbed. and woke the next morning refreshed. I stretched luxuriously under the sheets as light filtered through the shades. I reviewed the events from the day before, smiling. It was good to, once again, have a hungry, eager-to-please faggot in residence! Danny was the real deal: a cocksucker up for grabs, body and soul; a loser to the core.
The aroma of brewed java wafted through the room from the coffee maker I'd set by the timer the night before. I slipped out from under the covers sans pajamas, as was my habit, and walked, yawning and dick swinging, to Danny's corner. He lay huddled in a fetal position wrapped in the thin grey blanket. I gave him a light kick in the back.
"Rise and shine, fagboy!" I said in a loud voice, and Danny flew to a sitting position. I stood over him, hands on hips, legs spread, and my cock and balls in his face.
"Get my robe and slippers from the closet. That's part of your morning duties. And don't make me have to wake you again, you hear me? you get up and have those ready before I'm up," I said sternly. Danny, for his part, busied himself folding his blanket and stealing glimpses at my cock. One could see by his expression that a true connection had been forged between the two of them!
I sat at the edge of my bed while Danny helped me into my slippers. I stood and he held my robe for me like a fawning Maitre D'.
Once ensconced comfortably on the couch, I directed Danny on how I liked my coffee, and how I wanted it brought to me. Soon, he entered the room with a serving tray holding a steaming mug of kona coffee, a small pitcher of cream, a spoon, and a napkin. He knelt, careful not to spill anything in the process, and quietly placed the tray on the low table before me.
"Pour the cream, faggot. I'll tell you when to stop," I instructed.
Danny sat back on his heels and slowly poured the cream with a look of utmost concentration.
"Tiny bit more. I want you to remember how much. Don't make me have to remind you. got it?"
With his eyes still glued to the cream trickling into the cup, Danny responded.
"I won't forget, sir. I promise."
"There. Stop right there. Shit. You might have gone too far."
"I'm sorry, sir! I was trying to..."
"Zip it, moron. Jeez, how'd you get to be so clumsy, anyway?"
Danny's hand shook and the pitcher clattered lightly on the tray as he replaced it.
"I'll try harder, sir. I'm very sorry." he said.
"Okay, okay. Can the sorry? But get it right next time. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
Per my further instructions, he stirred the coffee with the spoon, then laid the spoon onto the folded napkin, then handed the cup to me using both hands, careful as a Catholic priest with a chalice. I took a sip.
"It's okay. Now, " I said, leaning back, "tell me what you thought about last night. You ate a lot of cum, didn't you?" I said, savoring the subtle nuances of the coffee.
