The Pet

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*****

I found myself in master's basement with two chairs sitting in front of me. Voices upstairs are definitely my parents. Mom sounds like she's crying. "This isn't how I wanted it to happen!... My baby boy." She doesn't seem to want to come down. Dad sounds upset, but willing to come down all the same.

I hear the clank of his heals in his leather shoes on each step. Man always wore Bostonians, the clank of the heal on any hard surface is always the dead giveaway as to the brand. A man of the autumn, always wore the darker neutral shades with his vibrant orange color. No matter the time of year, he always wore his autumn colors. He was upset that I was nude as he finally saw my full form come into view when he hit the base of the steps. "Haven't seen you so undressed since the dog grabbed a hold of your trunk leg and pulled." I could tell he was trying to lighten the mood, but it wasn't working.

"How could you sell me into slavery?"

"Well, that's a hard story to tell. It broke your mother's heart to do so, but desperation breeds bad decisions." Apparently he and mom fell onto hard times when I was little. The federal cutbacks to military spending bankrupted the local Boeing plant. Thousands were laid off. Businesses that relied on those federally paid employees went belly up. What good are food trucks if there's no place to sell? What good is a dry cleaner if there are no shirts to be cleaned? What good are restaurants if there is no liquidity in spending money? The whole town was dying. Many who could afford to leave did. The rest, like my parents, were stuck with few to no options.

"When I lost my job at the plant, I did anything to earn money. Feeding you and your mama were my highest priority. But when you got sick, I had trouble paying the bill. When you got hurt at school, I couldn't afford that bill. Things got bad, kid. We lost everything. One of my creditors was in the Bondage and Discipline lifestyle. He could afford food for you, and keeping you well and maintained, but you'd have to belong to him. Not as an adopted son, but as his property. That was his condition. Mine and your mother's debts were so great... He really has taken good care of you."

I couldn't believe my ears. "'He's taken good care of me?'" What that meant was that from the time I was "owned" by dad's creditor, he had been the one to make sure there was food in the house for me. I was never malnourished. When I got sick or hurt, I saw a good doctor. When I wanted to learn a skill, instrument, sport, He was more than willing to make sure I learned as much as possible. After all, I was to be his son's servant, my current master.

"When did you sell me?"

"When you hit 12. We couldn't take care of you anymore. We were looking at sending you to either your aunt's or uncle's families, but they couldn't afford the extra mouth to feed. Foster would mean losing you forever, never knowing you again. Selling you meant that we would have very little by means of our impact on your welfare, but we did have an impact on your development. We could watch you grow, teach you where you come from, and have a chance to know who you are. Your owner controlled everything else."

"How was I controlled?"

"Your owner decided you would be a vegetarian with a little meat for the iron and minerals absent from a vegetarian's diet. Your mom and I eat meat regularly. Didn't you ever find it strange that you almost never do? Your education was always the best. Anytime you struggled, you had a tutor show up and help you through. Your being fit has also been important. Never were you allowed to just sit and lounge around the house. You always had chores, gardening, sports, and learning proper grooming and host duties, like a butler. You never had a lot of time for yourself, ever. You would always be doing something to improve yourself, or be in the service to someone else. You have always been prepared to serve someone else."

"My athleticism is my own. I wanted to be lean and fit. I wanted to be athletic. I wanted to be..."

"No. You would always whine about wanting to go fishing or watch the wind move across the fields, or just sit around and watch TV all morning long. You always had a "friend" show up who wanted to go do something. Remember your neighbor Rick? He was one of your owner's servants who made sure you never sat down. You would always go running or working out. He'd always push you harder to run further, lift heavier weights, climb higher trees, swim against the current... Your body was never your own. You were always being conditioned to exercise, and shape your body into being lean, toned, and sexy for your Master.

"Why am I a slave to my bf and not to your creditor?"

My Master pipes in, "I'll fill you in on that one, my pet. Dad, my dad, always intended for you to be mine. From the time I was little I was raised in bdsm. Although, I always had a taste for the bondage and sadism aspects of the life more than simple discipline. You were to be my sexy gimp slave. I really didn't care if you had a brain in your head. My interests were to torment you, punish you simply because you existed. You were never supposed to go to college after high school, but because of September 11, I chose to go to war and fight for my country. You were probably old enough to do so too, but you never did. No matter."

"I was to be punished simply for living?"

"That's what gimp slaves do. That is their sole purpose in life. It was to be your sole purpose too. But, when I got back from my tour, going to college, noticing you in my classes, I just had to see what else you could do. You are a good follower, horrible at making your own decisions. Dad really trained you well. And you've shown promise for remarkable things. So, I've decided to expand your duties, see how your mind can entertain me."

"Sir, I think I can fill in my pet's needs for information from now on. Let me walk you out."

"Dad! Please don't leave me here!"

"Sir, this is now my property. You are here as a courtesy, but that time has passed. You need to leave."

With that, dad left. I never saw him again. He cried the whole way up the stairs, and then he was gone. Master was gone for a long time. I never heard the cries of my mother again. Dad's shoes never clanked again near me. I was alone, utterly alone.

Master came down the stairs again. He was gone for a long time. But he wasn't dressed in anything. He was completely nude. Not that I've never seen him like that before, but never was I tied up spread eagle in a standing position in a dimly lit basement before. I was terrified. I pissed myself. Master calmly went over to a wall, picked up a handle with many strands coming off of it. "This is a flogger, slave. From now on, unless you have permission to piss I will punish you." When I started to speak I heard the crack of the tails against my abdomen and burst of tears filled my eyes. "Unless I ask you a question, you have no right to answer. This is non negotiable, slave."

"My name is Josh."

Crack! Again I was crying. "Your name is what I tell you it is. Josh is gone. Josh is never coming back. The mere mention of the name Josh will earn you a horrible punishment. Slave is slave. Slave is faggot. Slave is my sissy cunt. Slave is whatever I want to call it from now on."

"My name is Josh, and I am not an..."

Crack! "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"My name is Jos-"

Crack! Crack! Crack! "Try again."

"Slave! For the love of God, my name is slave!"

"Better, but 'it' not 'I', and 'its' not 'my'. Say it like this, 'Its name is slave'. Property will never be regarded in a human tone. As such, slave may never again use human distinctions. Is that understood?"

Crack! "Is that understood?!"

"Yes! It understands. Slave understands."

"Good. Now, it's time to go over the rules. Slave will abide to these rules. If slave does not, then it will be punished. And then it will abide to the rules.

Rule one: Slave must always show its master respect.

Rule two: the slave must always do as it is told.

Rule three: slave will always strive its best to be perfect in everything it sets out to accomplish.

Rule four: slave will always accept its punishment.

Rule five: slave will never do anything, or set out to do anything, without the permission of its Master.

Rule six: slave will never lie to its master.

Rule seven: slave will never covet what it doesn't have.

Rule eight: slave will always attempt to make its master's life easier and less complicated however possible or allowed.

Rule nine: slave will never burden its master with anything unnecessary.

Rule ten: slave will never serve any other master.

"Does slave understand these rules?"

"It understands them when read to it, but it cannot remember them all."

"That's alright, slave. When the lights are on fully, slave will be able to read them on the wall in front of itself. It will be able to read, memorize, and learn them all in due time."

"May I-it ask, why did you become my boyfriend just to treat me this way?"

"Slave, it was always destined to be treated this way. When it showed potential to be more than simply a tortured gimp, that you could provide companionship as well, I wanted to get to know slave, earn its trust, and come to love my pet. Slave was always going to be seen as nothing more than property, but slave showed the potential of being a companion, like a dog following me around on a leash. Come to think of it, I don't know why I never put slave on a collar and lead it around town on a leash. That would have been the perfect thing. Take it to our little cafe, slave on its leash kneeling beside me on the veranda, my ordering mine and slave's meals, perhaps inviting one of its or my friends for lunch and show off my pet's well behaved manners..."

"I would never have done that!"

Crack! Slave will learn its place in this world. It's thinking as an equal human being are over. It will be taught it's true purpose in life. Dad never treated you as the property slave it was always going to be. I will change that. Slave is property. I will treat it as nothing else.

"Wake up, faggot! Time for its morning shower."

It can't remember the last time it had a warm shower that wasn't master's urine. Its memory is fading from when it was considered human. It accepts itself as a thing, an object, for master's use and pleasure. It doesn't even know if it could function in life without master. Slave is dependent on master to decide if it eats or not, and what it will eventually consume. Its mornings are the same: cold shower with a hose, dried with a rough towel, led to a toilet for self urination and defecation, and led to its bowl where its food is put into a dish.

Slave no longer gets dressed. It only wears the collar Master gave it, the chastity device He put onto its dick, and rings in its penis, tits, ears, and belly. It had a tongue piercing until Master decided to split its tongue like a serpent. It can now give Master better blow jobs. Just having Master in its mouth is intoxicating. It just opens up and massages Master's penis and balls in its mouth. If Master begins to face fuck it, slave just accepts. It gave up resisting its Master's intentions a long time ago. Accepting means it is not punished. It did what Master desired eventually anyway.

Floggers and whips have already left marks on its back, legs, and abdomen. Raised scars are the only things it wears. It remembers when it received each. Each mark for punishment as well as for pain. Master loves it when his faggot cries. Each lashing brings him pleasure. It is like sex, it binds Master with his slave.

Every day is the same. Master brings food downstairs to the basement. It is never allowed upstairs. Master sits down in a wooden chair and waits for his faggot slave. It crawls on all fours to the table and waits next to its master on its knees and shins, toes pointed out behind it, hands are on its thighs, back is straight with its head forward. It looks out in front of it. There is nothing there but a wall of equipment that tortures this faggot. It waits for its Master to say "Okay". Then and only then may slave move under the table and kneel the same way, only to wrap its mouth around Master's balls and dick and hold them in its mouth keeping them warm and slick. It has learned to curl its tongue around His shaft and using its throat muscles massage the shaft with a swallowing. It is something the faggot learned while trying to earn some love from its Master. He treats it better when it finds new ways to please him.

Every day is the same, except for today. Master has come into the basement in clothing. His jeans look as if they were painted onto him. His flannel shirt is only halfway buttoned with the sleeves rolled up. His belt buckle is vibrantly shiny and quite large. Modern codpiece slave guesses, not that Master needs to draw more attention to his crotch. Grey boots, grey hat, grey belt. Master is one sexy piece of ass. If only its dick wasn't locked in chastity. It could salute its Master. Faggot is his bitch in heat. It is sure He knows that.

"Today I have a special treat for it, faggot. Today, slave is going to be taken outside to be tanned. It has spent too much time inside. The faggot's skin has become pale, and I want it tanned."

Slave hasn't been outside in what it only assumes to be months. There is no daylight in the basement, no clock, only Master and His will and devices of torment. It has no idea what season it is outside. It could be freezing outside or blistering hot. Slave was captured after its first school term. That was just after Xmas. It has no idea.

"The faggot's skin has become pasty this past year out of the sun's rays. But with its forced workouts and regulated diet it actually has a physique I desire. Now it only needs the tanned skin."

Year?! A full year?! A year without parents, friends, contacts...

Crack! The flogger against its belly—"Snap out of it, faggot. A year! A full year that it has been down here. No one has come looking for it. None of its friends. Its parents knew where it once was, but now where it is now. The world has been passing it by. Now that the faggot is no longer a part of the world, it has no place in it. Its only place is at my feet. What it is, what it is to do, how it is defined is all defined by me. I decide what it is. I decide its value. I give it purpose. Without me, it is absolutely nothing. It might as well be dead without me."

Master is right. It is nothing without him.

"How is fagot going to get tanned, Master?"