One Step Behind You

By: Randall Austin
(© 2011 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 13

Ever since I was first enslaved I have come to dread the holidays with the Falkenberg's. Everything the Falkenberg's do and everything they have me do at holiday time I find especially annoying, demeaning, and embarrassing. It seemed this year the holiday season not only once again got off to a bad start, but it even started one week earlier than usual. It was December 18th, and I was painting and applying holiday decorations to the windows in the Falkenberg's favorite reading and sitting room while Lang, his dad, and Weston read the newspaper.

I was applying stencils, paper decorations, and doing small brush painting detail work to the windows. At one point I knocked over a small paper cup full of blue watercolor that I had sitting on the sill, and it ran down the wall. Mr. Falkenberg peaked from behind his newspaper and said, "Oh Oh! You better hurry up and clean that off before it stains!" I had to stifle my frustration and anger when I said, "Yes, Mr. Falkenberg. I know that."

As I rushed to clean up the mess I heard Mr. Falkenberg ask Lang and Weston if I was being sarcastic. As I was wiping up the last of the mess Mr. Falkenberg asked me if I was intending to get into another holiday 'mood' the way I did over the last two holiday seasons, and ruin his Christmas party once again. The 'new' me (the me weary of punishment and willing to say anything that I think my owners want to hear) answered, "Oh not at all Mr. Falkenberg. I realize now that I was really unpleasant and behaving in a most improper and immature way the last two years. I was in a new life, was missing my family, and I was having a hard time adjusting. I intend this year to do all that I can do to make this the best holiday for you and Lang, ever!"

Mr. Falkenberg beamed, "Gosh, you are right Lang. Since we got Billy penis-clamped he has been a new person. Billy, I was almost beginning to miss having to punish you so often. But of course, I do have to punish you now for spilling that paint. So why don't you just take off your clothes and come over here beside me."

I took off my clothes and went and stood next to Mr. Falkenberg. He fumbled for the key ring in his pocket, pulled it out, found the clamp key, and unlocked my chastity belt. He pulled it and all the accessories off, laid them beside his chair, and patted his lap, "Okay you little Christmas elf, get over my lap."

I got over his lap, Lang and Weston put their newspapers down to watch, and Mr. Falkenberg began spanking me. "I'm sorry I have to do this, because you have been such a little ace since we locked up your wiener." And the results of my clamping showed; feeling Mr. Falkenberg's leg against my cock, and my cock rubbing against it, provided the first stimulation to my dick in the three weeks since I had been clamped, and I got hard as a rock, and felt like I would come if the spanking continued on too long. Mr. Falkenberg immediately caught what was going on and stopped spanking, "I think you better stand up Billy!" I got off of his lap, stood up, and he stood up beside me. He pulled my hands in back of me and held them in place with his left hand, and with his right hand he resumed smacking my buttocks. My dick waggled precum in copious amounts as he spanked me, and Lang and Weston were smiling and greatly amused.

When he stopped spanking I was teary eyed and embarrassed. Mr. Falkenberg sat back down and he, Lang, and Weston, continued to study me and my big erection.

Lang spoke up, "Dad, just look at the boner on him! I think that alone is going to ensure that our Christmas party this year is going to be the biggest success ever." Mr. Falkenberg nodded in agreement, and Weston, curious, asked how my erection would ensure a successful Christmas party.

Lang then proceeded to tell Weston about the Falkenberg's annual tradition of having their slave dress up as a Christmas elf for the big family Christmas party. "Ever since I was a child dad would have the family slave dress up as an elf for the family Christmas party. The slave would serve the guests as usual, but dressed in a cute brown and green elf costume, which including an elf hat and elf boots with long pointed curly toe tips. The kids love the family elf. But there is a big secret to the costume that all the adults, and only the adults, know about. The flap in front of the elf's crotch is loose, and can be lifted up. So every year dad and his friends, and in the years since I have been an adult, dad and I, paint the slave's dick in some very colorful, cute, way. And so on the invitation to the party it is mentioned that gifts made to the family slave should be cash only, and these can be deposited to the slave by lifting the flap in front of his trousers and dropping them into a pocket inside his trousers. So it has become a family tradition; when an adult gets the slave alone, they pull up his crotch flap, get to see what an elf's dick looks like, and then they stuff the money in a special pocket sewn into the inside of the elf costume. And of course, it is always the big hit of the party, because every year we try to make the dick look as silly as possible. It's just an old fun-time family tradition which comes from Sweden. All slaves in Sweden get their elf dicks painted at Christmas time."

Weston was transported, "Oh, that is such a wonderful custom! You gotta love those Swedes!"

Lang continued, "But why I think this year will be an especially big hit is because little Billy's dick is going to be concrete hard the whole time from not having been able to jack off, and already I'm thinking of how I can paint an erect dick in really funny ways that one can't paint a flaccid dick." As Lang continued to fill Weston in on family traditions, Mr. Falkenberg called me to his chair and put the chastity belt back on me.

"Anyway, for his first two Christmases here Billy was something of a sourpuss. Even though the cash gifts are his to keep and spend on whatever he wants, Billy was totally embarrassed about the whole thing, way too serious, his free-boy pride was wounded, he refused to get into the party nature of the event, and he even made many of our guests feel bad about lifting his crotch patch and looking at his penis."

Weston frowned, "Oh, that was too bad" and continued looking at me with a smile on his face.

Lang nodded, "Yes, it was. All of our former slaves just loved playing the goofy little elf with the painted penis to amuse the guests. The children love the costume, the adults are crazy about what's inside the crotch flap, and everyone always has a laughing good time. But not Mr. Serious, here! Oh no! He was sulking, sullen, teary-eyed, sniveling, and cantankerous. So, once the party began and we saw what an asshole Billy was being, dad took him out to the punishment shed and whipped the shit out of him; but that turned out to be a big mistake. There was then no way our little elf could get back into good party spirits, even if he had the acting skills of Olivier."

"And last year, when we saw that Billy was going to be once again a rather sour elf, I suggested to dad that we let Billy drink in order to relax himself. So we did, and let him have all the wine he wanted. Unfortunately, we didn't realize he hadn't eaten all day; he was so busy in helping out with all the last minute party preparations. At one point we noticed he was missing, and when we finally found him he was asleep on a guest bed, and we simply couldn't rouse him."

Mr. Falkenberg laughed out loud at the recollection of Christmases past, and said, "It's impossible not to love the little guy. Especially since that costume fitted him like a glove. A picture of little Billy in his elf costume, which we took last year before the party began, is on the Christmas cards we sent out this year. You should be getting yours soon."

"What an imp!" laughed Weston, and then he leaned over and whispered into Lang's ear. Lang smiled, nodded, and hit Weston on the back. A few moments later, Weston folded up his newspaper, set it down, got out of his easy chair, and came up to me. He put his hand on my shoulder and smiled at me, "Billy, come along with me." I asked him if I should get dressed first, and he shook his head "no". He walked ahead, looked back, crooked his finger at me, and walked off towards a guest room.

I entered the room with him. He hugged me rather tenderly, then began taking off his clothes. "Seeing you get a whumping from Mr. Falkenberg and the way you were crying got me worked up. I don't have a steady girl friend right now, so, if you don't mind, I could use a little help." When he was naked he looked me in the eye, smiled, and waggled his dick in his hand. "Get down there and meet Thor." I knelt down and took Thor in my hand. Weston commanded me to talk to 'him'. He kept waggling it in my face as it erected.

"Say 'Hi' to Thor." I said, "Hello Thor". Weston spoke in a quiet voice, "Billy, Thor is an individual worthy of respect. Take a good look at him. Go on! Get your face right next to him. Atta boy! Now isn't Thor a beauty? You know what? Thor has more rights and freedoms than you do. He is a free man's prick, and you're a slave boy with a slave boy's prick. So show a little respect. Go on!"

As I put my lips to his prick head, Weston moaned; "Oh Billy. You have no idea how much I've looked forward to having you suck me off while you are clamped up. It's just a really neat feeling. Here you are Billy, just 21 years old, and your cock and balls are in the slammer. Your little prick, your best pal for most of your life, the one you hung out with the most when you were alone, is now out of your life for good. Your owner has the key."

As I kept sucking, Weston kept moaning; "Billy, you don't know how much it turns me on to see you clamped up, knowing you can't jack off any more. And that's the way it should be Billy. A little slave like you shouldn't be feeling the good things we free boys feel. You are so beautiful down there, on your knees, sucking away. Oh man, this is so hot. Having a one hundred percent, fully compliant, fully behaving, penis-clamped slave sucking you off is a treat equaled by few other things on earth. Totally awesome."

Weston pulled his super hard cock out, waggled it around, rubbed and slapped it across my face a few times, reminded me one more time that Thor had more freedoms than I did, and then jabbed Thor back into my mouth. "Okay now Billy-boy, suck a little harder and go down deeper." As I started sucking and slurping he moaned, "I'll tell you a big secret that only clamped slave boys learn. If you suck hard enough and show enough love, you can feel the same thing as the person you're sucking can feel. It's true. I've had slave boys tell me that." I wanted to believe that and started sucking as hard as I could. Weston moaned and spasmed in pleasure, and quickly pulled out. He breathed heavy, caught his breath, and said he didn't want to cum just yet, and ordered me to get on the bed and lay down on my belly, "It's time for me to fuck the little Christmas elf."

Weston knelt on the bed and straddled me; "I so enjoyed the porking I gave you when you gamed at my house, that I told Lang I simply needed another go at it. He is such a generous guy. He told me to bring you in here and let Thor work you over." Once Weston got lubed up he started easing his cock into my hole, "Okay Thor, you're going up the little elf's ass. Let me know what you find up there!"

Once Weston was in he stretched himself comfortable out across my back and held on to my shoulders, "So you're going to be the little elf this year at the Christmas party. That must be so cute, with everyone all dressed up, the guys in their dress clothes, shiny shoes, Christmas sweaters, and their hair combed fancy, all looking hot and holiday happy, and you in an elf costume with an elf cap and boots, and a loose peepee flap, and all the dressed up boys making sport of you in front of their girlfriends."

He did a few gentle pumping strokes of his hips, bringing him to full hardness, "Man, what a fuckin juicy hole you've got!" He squeezed my shoulders and sides, "What a fuckable, squeezable, pleasure pup you are!" He thrust his hips gently, fully controlling his pleasure, "Fucking you Billy feels so good! Can you feel my free prick probing your very unfree ass? Can you feel my dick tip probing around in your pleasure palace?" He thrust some more, and my own dick was oozing tons of sex juice, yet could feel no stimulus with any outside agent, constrained as it was in the chastity guard. "How it turns me on that you are such a hot fuck, yet you can't get your own rocks off; that you gave up your selfish pleasure so that you could be a super compliant slave." He started pumping his hips with a slow regular motion. "What a hot slave you are. And you will remain a hot slave for the rest of your life, because if you don't Lang, his dad, and I will be there one step behind you to give you a spanking. You'll be getting regular spankings from all of us for the rest of your life."

He started pumping harder, "Oh Billy, this feels sooooo godddamn fuckin fine! I am a free man, that's why I get to feel this good! You are a slave, that's why you will never be able to feel the way I am feeling ever again. Do you envy me Billy? Do you want to be free like me? Do you want to be able to play with your dick the way we free boys do, whenever we want?"

He grabbed me tight, his hip thrusts were firm and deep, and our bodies became sweat locked as he brought himself near to a climax, "Fucking penis clamped boys is just something I have always enjoyed doing, but fucking a penis clamped boy who just happens to be one of my best friends is awesome!" His thrusts grew more rapid; he licked the side of my face and my ear, started moaning, thrust harder and faster, and soon brought himself to a climax that seemed to go for two minutes. When it was over he remained on top of me, and his dick remained inside of me. He whispered in my ear, "Oh Billy! Thank you, little guy! This was one of the hottest fucks I've ever had. Lang is so damn lucky to have you. I wish I could actually afford to buy you from Lang. You're a super cool guy. I love you dude. Please, take good, good, care of yourself." Weston gently pulled himself out of me, got off the bed, ordered me to wipe his sweat off with a towel, and then started to get dressed. "You want to have a beer with me before I leave?"

I told him I thought Lang was waiting to see me, so it would be best if I didn't. We walked out together back into the reading room. Lang was still there, "Thank you Lang for your hospitality! Lang, I'm not kidding you; you simply have to start fucking this boy. You don't know what you are missing." Weston started tousling my hair, "Billy is such a great little guy, and he's got one hot ass on him!" Lang smiled, "Yeah, he's a sweetie, isn't he!" Lang told me I was covered in sweat and ordered me to take a shower, and then to get to work on sanding the hardwood floors in the recreation room, which I was in the process of remodeling.

***

Ed Morgan was the Falkenberg's good friend, a professional slave investment advisor, and slave placement specialist. He would visit us and stay for dinner about once every five months, and, among other things, would counsel the Falkenberg's on the status of the current slave market, how their current slave rated in the overall economy, and inform them of the hottest new investment options. Mr. Morgan would also offer the Falkenberg's his professional assessment on my physical development and quality of service. I sensed the Falkenberg's really were not interested in getting into slave investing too heavily, so as frightening as Mr. Morgan's suggestions on what to do with me often were, I always felt confident the Falkenberg's were not about to reinvest me. He usually would always end up his presentation by letting them know that they had gotten me at a rather good price, and they could be assured that my resale value would be quite more than what they had paid for me. But after I was tattooed with "Property of Enar and Lang Falkenberg across my shoulder, Mr. Morgan stopped offering such aggressive investment options for me, and offered more practical ways for the Falkenberg's to make money off of me.

"I know you two have made a commitment to Billy, got him tatted and all. But I just thought I would pass this along for your info. As you know, I have always felt Billy was not ideally suited to being a display domestic. And I must tell you; now that he is tattooed with your name I feel that even more strongly. I just feel like you folks are wasting Billy."

"One option for you is the cross-cultural market. Right now the Hispanic community in Florida is aggressively seeking white boy slaves. They're snapping them up like peanuts for almost whatever price you're asking. I believe you could get almost half again for what you paid for Billy. I kid you not!"

Mr. Falkenberg and Lang glanced at each other with expressions of surprise and delight. "Another hot cross cultural market right now is in Jamaica. The Jamaican ruling elite is paying exorbitant prices for young American white boys. As amazing as this sounds, you could probably get more than double for Billy. It really is something you need to consider, as this is a relatively small market that looks like it will be saturated within a few months." Then looking at me Mr. Morgan said, "Billy, if you are sold to the Jamaicans you can be sure every inch of your body will be tattooed. Those Jamaicans are really into tattooing white boys, let me tell you!"

Mr. Morgan was pleased that his audience was interested, "But since I know you folks are kind of settling in as family with Billy, and seem to be happy with the way things are going, I still feel as though I need to offer you one more bit of advice. This is just my professional opinion, of course, and is in no way intended as any sort of criticism of your taste. I've said it before to you two, and I'll say it again, but Billy is not the right kind of boy for what you are using him for, as a "nude domestic". Sure, everyone likes to watch naked male slaves in service mode. Let's face it, we all enjoy watching other guys having to scurry around and serve guests naked. Who doesn't enjoy eyeing the chicks as they ogle a slave boy's jiggling dick? But let's face the facts. Billy is cute, has the advantage of youth, but he's not prime display or fashion material. You'd never find someone like Billy in an ad in an Italian fashion magazine."

"The trend these days is to use Billy types in draft service, and get hard cash back on your investment. Do you know how much you could be making off of Billy if you sent him to, say, Lehrman's Foundry, at the outskirts of town? Because it is a fiendish job, it pays damn well. It's where all the boys who don't go to college want to get a job so they can afford a fancy car in no time. You could send Billy there and have him bringing in at least 55 thousand a year, maybe as high as 65 if he works overtime. There really is no other comparable investment that brings that kind of annual return. Think about it; Billy is young. He could be bringing in that kind of cash for you for at least the next twenty years, probably as long as the next thirty."

"If you want a naked slave, you can still have him do that on weekends. But you are wasting him, letting him amble around here doing housework, watching TV, wasting all that time on the computer. I just hate to see you two guys missing out on such an opportunity. I say put him to work, where he belongs. Most kids go to college these days, so the foundry is really hurting for worker lugs. I often recommend Lehrman's foundry to my clients, and I could have a full time position lined up for Billy probably as soon as Monday. Billy is draft material, not show material. If you sent him to a brothel he is the kind of kid that would get a lot of takers because of his youth, but no one would be willing to pay top dollar for him sexually. That is unless he has some really special skills in that area, but I have no idea. Have you ever had him rated?"

The Falkenberg's nodded in the negative, and Ed said, "I'd be happy to give him a test run and evaluate him for you." Mr. Falkenberg answered, "Well, I think Lang and I would be foolish not to take you up on your kind offer. I like the foundry idea a lot, but who knows, maybe Billy could generate even more income in another area. It seems unlikely Billy would have any special sexual servicing tool, but who knows? We'd be foolish not to explore all options. Just what do you need for this evaluation? You are welcome to use the guest room here for your evaluation."

"I just need some lube, a short whip, and an electro-shock slave prod."

Lang asked what the whip and prod were for.

"Good heavens! You two really are naïve. If Billy has a really tight hole, a flip of the whip on the ass or back causes the hole to spasm open. Once you've got your dick into a tight-holed slave, by whipping the slave you can get a nice pulsing sensation on your rod that feels great while you're fucking the slave up the ass. Really tight holed slaves are best for the 'whip fuck', which brings in top dollars from connoisseurs. And the prod offers another real special treat; while you're fucking a slave if you touch the slave's buttocks with the prod, the slave gets a real wallop, but by the time the current reaches your dick all you get is a super delightful throbbing sensation. It creates orgasms from another planet!"

"I see," said both of the Falkenberg's as they thoughtfully rubbed their chins.

Ed continued, "For a full evaluation I like the slave tarted out." He then addressed me, "Billy, I want you to go rouge your cheeks, put on some lipstick, tease your eyelashes, use a pencil to extend your brow, slick up your hair, powder your ass, and douse your tits and genitals in cologne. When I enter the guest room I want you reclining on the bed with your mouth open and your tongue out and making 'come hither' motions."

***

Even though Ed got his rocks off quite satisfactorily, I could tell he was prejudiced against me. I didn't do very well on Ed's sexual evaluation. He came out angry and told the Falkenberg's I was hopeless. He asked the Falkenberg's what they wanted to do, and Mr. Falkenberg said that the matter was under evaluation, and he and Lang would get back to him on their decision. Ed seemed to not want to hear of any delays, "Just remember, I believe I could have Billy set up with a position at the foundry starting Monday morning on the 7am shift. I can arrange to have the slave 'Labor Transport Service' pick Billy up at 6am each morning. It's time for Billy to start earning you some cold hard cash! One word of caution though; foundry work is very labor intensive and is, relatively, a high risk environment, so you will definitely want to take out a heftier insurance policy on him."

Then Ed spoke to me, "Billy, if your owners do decide to put you to work at the foundry, let me save you a little trouble. A lot of slave boys like you, when inserted to offsite labor, get the idea that they can do crappy work and get fired. Let me tell you something. Slaves cannot be fired. A slow moving or unproductive slave is simply whipped. At Lehrman's Foundry about one third of the work force are slaves. Both the bosses and the free men employees out at Lehrman's carry whips and use them on the slaves if needed. The leather coveralls you will be wearing at the foundry are easily unsnapped to reveal your back, buttocks, and legs. They are coveralls designed specifically for slaves. And all the free boys out at Lehman's are experts at unsnapping the covering from the part they want to whip. You do what you're told out there! Be respectful to all of your bosses and freemen coworkers."

By the time I left the room to go take a shower and wash off the makeup which Mr. Morgan made me put on for his evaluation, I was very depressed. As I stepped out of the shower and was toweling myself dry, Lang entered the bathroom. "Billy, I just got a call from Brother Michael. He wanted to know if I would be willing to loan you out next weekend as a volunteer helping him remodel a rectory at a sister parish in Troy, New York. It would be just the two of you up in Troy for the weekend. I told him that it would be okay, and that, of course, you would be very happy to help out."

I was so depressed after being used by Mr. Morgan for his sexual perversions that I lost it. I exploded at Lang, "I am so fucking goddamn tired of being raped by perverts. I am not going with Brother Michael and you can't make me go! You're always telling me how I am 'family'. Well, family don't let other members of the family get tortured and raped by perverts. You say I'm family and can come and talk to you anytime I want to about anything, but every time that I do you tell me to stop whining. But if I keep talking and try to make my point, you give me a warning, and before I know it you're whipping my ass! I am so fucking tired of being tortured!"

I started crying uncontrollably and sank to the floor. Lang stood above me for a while, and then sat down on the toilet seat while I wept. His cell phone rang. He talked for a bit and it sounded like he was making plans to have someone baby-sit for me next week while he and Mr. Falkenberg made a brief trip to their vacation home. Then I heard him ask, "Would you and Perry be able to accompany Billy to Punishment House? Yes, now... Great! I'm sending him there for a six-hour session, but you wouldn't have to stay there the whole time. You could just observe for a while, if you'd like... Thanks. Billy is ready and waiting for your arrival."

Lang hung up and explained, "Tony just called and asked if next week he and Perry, and the captain of the gaming team you're going to be pulling for, could come over, and you and the team captain could get acquainted. They were only able to come on Thursday, so I asked him if he and Perry would be willing to baby-sit you at that time until the following evening, since that is when Dad and I are going to Hampton. That way we wouldn't have to kennel you. They kindly agreed. And so then I asked them if they would drive you to Punishment House just now, and they both sounded like they would be more than happy to accompany you there, perhaps also offer you a little comfort."

He stood up, walked out of the bathroom, and started dialing Punishment House to make an appointment for me. I ran after Lang, caught up with him, and hugged him. "Lang, please. You can't send me there! It's not right! You know it's not right!"

Lang asked me why it was not right. I told him because I loved him and Mr. Falkenberg, and I was wrong to lose my temper, and that they, in fact, do listen to me if I have a serious complaint, and that I was very sorry for shouting and losing my temper. Lang tousled my hair, and walked to a chair in the hallway, sat down, took out the key to my penis clamp, unlocked it, and took it off, "This needs to come off for Punishment House." As he dialed the Punishment House, he spread his legs, and hit his right leg with his hand indicating for me to sit in his lap.

While I sat naked in his lap he smiled at me as he talked to the receptionist at Punishment House. He made a two-hour appointment for me. When he hung up I was so relieved that I was only being sent for a two-hour punishment session that I started crying. I told him I was sorry for so totally losing it, and that I deserved what he was doing! He loved to make me feel guilty, "Now, do you still want to say that I do not listen to you?" I shook my head, 'no'. He continued, "I believe what you tell me about Ed and Brother Michael, and I expect you to watch out for yourself and report to me all behavior that upsets you. I am sending you to Punishment House for only one reason; I really believe that it will help you control your tongue the next time you want to blurt out some lie about your owners in the heat of emotion."

He kept looking at me and told me he was going to close his eyes, and he wanted me to French kiss him so he could see if my French kissing felt like a woman's. He closed his eyes and I put my lips to his. He opened his mouth and I darted my tongue into his mouth. He started moaning. He backed away and said, "Fuck, that feels like the real thing! Do it some more!" He put our mouths back together. When my tongue felt his and they again started dancing together, my dick went rock hard. His eyes were still closed, so I let my right hand find the top of my cock and I started tugging it. I worked Lang's tongue all I could to keep his thoughts occupied, but from my jingling cock bell he knew what I was doing, and his hand moved to my hand and pulled it away from my dick.

"Oh Billy, that is too wild. I need to get off. He stood up and pulled down his pants, sat back down, and pushed me down on my knees in front of him. I immediately started sucking him off full force. He was worried that Tony and Perry would arrive and interrupt us, so he told me to go faster. I bobbed my head up and down in a sucking action as fast as I could. "If you don't get me off before they arrive I WILL sign you for six hours at Punishment House!" Lang, who was never very vocal during sex, couldn't control himself and started shouting as he came, "Holy-fucking-hallelujah!" He shot what seemed like a half cup of semen down my throat and as I sucked the last of it out, the doorbell rang. He pulled my head towards his and kissed me on the cheek, "You fucking golden mouth sweetie! Go and put on some shorts, shirt, and sandals. And don't be a sissy at Punishment House. Take your punishment like a man! You know you have it coming, but you also know it will do you good!"

As I was slipping on my shorts the doorbell rang again. As Lang walked over to answer it he asked, "Are you aware that your friends, Tony and Perry, are assholes?"

To be continued...

Posted: 10/28/11