Boys Like You

Part Seven

By Randall Austin

This story is erotic fiction meant for mature readers and should only be read by adults over the age of eighteen years old. Please do not use my stories without my permission and please forward all comments to randallaustin2011@hotmail.com

Randall Austin’s Archive Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Randall_Austin_Stories

As Randall and Dean sat in the bathtub after Dean had

successfully poled and tamed his little brother, Dean

explained that he and his friend Earl were going to a

Linn County Lawyers Association meeting that

afternoon and because Randall was in the ‘Stage One’

program, he was not allowed to be left alone without a

‘babysitter’ and therefore Dean told Randall he had

decided it would be an excellent time to have Simon

Kettlestick, the young overseer and Earl’s neighbor,

over to give Randall a crash course in basic social

servant protocol.

When Randall protested, saying that anyone who decides

at age 15 that they want to be a professional servant

handler was no different than someone who decides at

age 15 they want to work in a slaughterhouse; both

were clearly the choices of people with dark problems.

Dean set Randall straight. “Simon already has a

Level ‘C’ servant handler’s permit.  It’s not as easy to

get that as you think.  A big part of what goes into

modern handler’s training is motivational techniques.

Earl tells me that he often has little Simon over to

give his slaves, Brendan and Reginald, pep talks!”

When Randall scoffed, Dean gave him a warning look

and the freshly chastened Randall immediately

apologized. “I’m sorry, bro.  That was the old me

reacting.  I really am going to try and change my

attitude, and not be so cynical.”

Dean rubbed Randall on the head. “I’m so proud of my

little brother making an effort to try a new way.  I

knew you had it in you.”  Dean’s head rub sent waves

of pleasures through Randall. 

After the brothers took a brief rinsing shower, Dean

handed Randall a big towel. “Come on bro.  Let’s get

you started on doing my personal service.  For

starters, I want you to towel dry me.”  Randall felt

at once a pang of resistance at his brothers demand,

but it was immediately diminished when he thought of

how defiance could get him punished; and it was

diminished further when he realized that he really did

want to towel dry his brother and it was diminished

even further when his brother started complimenting

him on the good job he was doing drying him off.  As

Randall dried his brother off and accepted that

service was something that made him feel good and if he

really accepted his lot, a wonderful, sweet, feeling

of subservience swept over Randall and hardened his

dick.

After towel drying, Dean had Randall clip his finger

and toenails, give him a massage, apply

antiperspirant to his underarms and gel and comb his

hair.  By the time Randall had completed his brother’s

personal services his dick tip gleamed with a drop of

precum.  Dean pointed to it. “You are not to touch

that thing without my permission!  If I get a good

report on your behavior from Simon when I get home

from my meeting, then we can consider addressing your

needs.”

“Remember Simon’s status as a certified handler means

that he has full authority over you legally while I am

away.  You are to do whatever he says.”

As Dean got dressed in his Brooks Brothers suit,

Randall put on his yellow boxer briefs and jumpsuit.

Earl arrived soon afterwards, wearing a crisp, gray,

expensive suit.  In contrast to their fine clothes,

Randall felt, in his yellow jumpsuit, like a servant

through and through.  As he served the two young,

successful, lawyers a cup of coffee as they awaited

the arrival of Simon Kettlestick, Randall tried to

think of other boys throughout the city doing the same

thing he was.  He wondered if they too had thoughts

that they were laughable as they hobbled around bald,

braced, collared, cinched, and jumpsuited.

Earl commented to Dean on Randall’s behavior, “He has

certainly made progress.  Quite impressive, Dean.”

Dean bowed, “Why thank you!”

Earl looked at Randall. “With Randy’s new right

attitude, he will be a real ace servant once Simon

helps him get his basic protocol down.  And he really

needs it!  For example, the way he just served us our

coffee is the way we, you, Dean, and I, would serve

coffee to our friends.  But that isn’t how a properly

trained servant with correct etiquette would ever do

it.”  Earl addressed Randall, “You don’t just hold out

a cup and say, “Here, take it.”  What you do is

approach the free person, observe first if you will be

distracting them if you speak, do a slight bow of the

head, then always use a proper form of address, then…”

As Earl continued speaking Randall looked at him in

contempt.  His old defiance was still present, but now

he knew to check it.  But he also wondered if he were

to be deferential to Earl, would he then start feeling

good inside the same way he did when he was obedient

and deferential to his brother.  He decided to try it,

“Thank you Earl.  That is good to know.  I really have

a lot to learn and look forward to my time with Mr.

Kettlestick.”

Earl was taken aback, “Wow!  That is some change man!”

Earl patted Dean on the back, “You’ve been making the

right moves dude, in getting this little guy on

course.  Whatever you’ve been doing to this work boy,

keep on doing it.  It’s working wonders!”

Randall was amazed; even with Earl’s condescending

tone, the same, strange, sweet, feeling of

subservience swept through him. 

There was a knock on the door and Dean ushered Simon

Kettlestick into the living room to introduce him to

Randall.  Randall sensed an officious air about Simon

and disliked him immediately.  Simon, being an earnest

young handler who took his role and the role of

servants seriously, made no such prejudgments of

Randall.

Simon was short, dark haired, lithe and well groomed.

He had clear brown eyes, a thin and well-shaped nose

and looked athletic.  He was neatly dressed in slacks,

shirt and a trainer’s vest.  He carried with him a

long and compact version of the standard trainer’s

case.  And though he was serious in nature, Dean did

not consider him to be in any way officious or

pompous: only a serious young man who took life

seriously.

Dean spoke, “Simon, Earl has raved to me so often

about the excellent motivational work you do with his

servants.  Any tidbits of wisdom which you could offer

to Randall would be most appreciated by both Randall

and myself.”

Simon smiled earnestly, “Thank you, Mr. Inslee. I am

humbled and flattered whenever anyone compliments me

on my work with servants, because I take my work very

seriously.  I take my work seriously because I take

servants seriously.  I would be most happy to offer

any information to Randall that I believe is relevant.

After I get to know him a little, have an assessment

chat with him, I’ll be better able to judge in what

areas he needs assistance.”

Dean was impressed; to his mind anyone who displayed

such poise and grammatical correctness at the age of

15 was certainly mature.  To Randall it was a reason

to be concerned.

Dean was beaming, “Well this should be just

wonderful.”  Dean reminded Randall to behave, “Now

remember Randall, to behave yourself and do whatever

Simon asks.  Simon, please remember that you are in

charge here.  Randall has been a good boy lately, so I

don’t expect there to be any problems.  I have already

told Randall that if you give him a good behavior

report, then I’m going to let him jerk and squirt this

evening.”

Simon did a schoolboy smile that was so broad it

scrunched up his nose and revealed all of his teeth.

He seemed to relish the fact that he would be the one

deciding whether or not Randall could do what free

boys do all the time.  Randall went red with

embarrassment, almost feeling betrayed at Dean’s

making something so private so public.  Dean noticed

Randy’s reaction and commented, “Randall, get over it.

You’re a social servant now and privacy is no longer

anything you need to be concerned about.”

Earl filled Simon in on the issue, “Randall’s had some

real problems controlling his urges, and that’s one of

the reasons he’s in this rehab program.  The way I

understand it is that basically if you left Randy

alone with himself, he couldn’t keep himself away from

porn and his hands away from his crotch.”

Simon shook his head and took on a serious look,

realizing for the first time that he was dealing with

a social servant who has some real problems.  He tried

to reassure Dean, “Don’t you worry, Mr. Inslee, I

won’t let Randall out of my sight.  And if does try to

take advantage of my good nature, he won’t get away

with it because I’m not only real good at seeing

through servants and their tricks, but if I catch them

being sneaky in any way I have some nifty methods of

teaching them to be honest.”

Earl and Dean smiled, pleased, and Earl supported

Simon’s claim, “You can trust what Simon says, Dean.

His father tells me that they have a wide circle of

friends who use Simon as their babysitter for their

servants, and whenever Simon has been in charge there

have never been any problems.”

Simon did a slight happy bow, “Thank you Earl.”  Simon

looked at Dean, “Please don’t worry about anything,

Mr. Inslee.  Randall’s in good hands with me and I

don’t expect there to be any problems”

As Dean and Earl made their way to the door, Dean

said, “You two kids have a good time now!” 

As they exited, Simon was enthusiastic, “We will!  I

hope you two gentlemen have a good afternoon!”

Simon looked about the living room and asked Randall,

“Shall we chat in here?”

Randall shrugged his shoulders, “Sure, why not?”

Simon took a seat in an easy chair and Randall sat on

the couch.  Simon was surprised, “I didn’t say you

could sit.”

Randall was puzzled, “Oh!  Well I guess you didn’t.”

Simon waited to see what Randall would do and when he

saw that Randall was going to remain seated, he

realized that Randall really did not have any training in

the basics of servant protocol.  Simon took out a

notepad, scribbled something on it, crossed his legs

and asked, “Randall, give me a sense, if you will, of

just how you are finding the ‘Stage One’ program; your

goals, your feelings, how your initial orientation

failed or didn’t fail to meet your expectations,

whether your paradigm of social servitude was

consistent with the societal matrix and whether or

not the imparting of assumptions of both society in

general and your own could reclude or give cause to

reclude, your effectiveness, productivity, and your

long term viability as a social servant.”

Randall did not know whether to laugh or be afraid.

He scratched his head, “Well, so far… you know, what

can I say?  I’m wearing this yellow jumpsuit.  Doesn’t

that sort of say it all?”

Simon scribbled in his notebook.  He looked up at

Randall, stared at him, then asked, “Are you mad that

I’m here?”

“No.”

Simon kept staring into Randall’s eyes, “I’m seeing

hostility coming from you.  Would you care to explain

that?”

“I’m not hostile, I’m not mad, I’m not upset.”

Simon kept staring into Randall’s eyes, “I don’t

believe you.”

Randall shrugged his shoulders, “Well! ….Okay then.”

“I want you to stand up and put your hands at your

sides, and…”

Randall interrupted him, “Look, I was told you wanted

to talk to me about standard service procedures.  I’m

here and I’m listening, but I don’t intend to go

hopping around while you snap out orders.  This is the

weekend and Dean told me weekends would be mellow.

If you want to talk, go ahead.  I’m all ears.”

Simon realized he had a challenge, but he remained

calm, “I don’t ‘talk’ to social servants.  I either

instruct them or I give them orders.  But I do not

talk to social servants.”

Randall sighed, “Suit yourself.”

“The reason you’re behaving the way you are right now,

is because…”  Simon stopped himself and began

again, “Wait… let me start over and phrase this in

language a social servant can understand.”

As Simon thought of how he would explain what he was

trying to say, Randall was fuming with anger at the

arrogant and pretentious kid who was put in charge of

him.

Simon found his voice, “The reason you’re acting the

way you are is because you are unhappy with yourself.

We see it all the time in the newly indentured.”

Randall, as angry as he was, was nevertheless

fascinated with the odd and precocious high school kid

acting like a seasoned handler.  He wondered where

Simon got all of his ‘lines’.

Simon continued, “But fortunately, for you, we have

progressed from the ‘do as I say, or else’ days of

servant control.  My dad still belongs to that school

of thought.  He still believes that servants should be

kept naked all the time.  Very old fashioned.  But in

fact, Randall, things are just the opposite now.  What

we in the servant control business do now and what I

would like to do here today, is to help servants feel

better about themselves, to feel happier and to be

happier.”

“What you lack, Randall, is passion.  And it is

passion that is going to get you lots of pats on the

head from your overseers and free folks.  It’s a

servant’s passion for excellence that turns him into

an ace.  And you, Randall, are already an ace, only

you do not know it!”

Randall stared at Simon, speechless, his mouth open in

an ‘O’ shape.

Simon stood up and acting like a motivational speaker

who was standing before a large crowd, spread his arms

in front of him, “The three pillars of passion are

self-belief, courage, and perseverance.  Each one of

us has something unique to give back to the world.

But we can only give it back to the world if we are

passionate about excellence.”

“Now Randall, let me ask you something.  How many

times have you set a project for yourself and said, “I

want to get that done by next week”, but when next

week comes the project is still untouched?  If you’re

like the rest of us, that’s happened more than you

would care to remember, right?”

Simon smiled at Randall, expecting him to answer, so

Randall, embarrassed, nodded in agreement.

Simon continued, “Now why do you think that happens?

Why can’t we get things done that we say we want to

get done?”

“It’s simply that we lack passion for the task before

us.  So what we need to do is build a pillar on which

our passion can thrive and voila; the job gets done.

That’s all there is to it; the next time you have a

job to do and don’t want to do it, just believe in

yourself, find the courage to get the job done and

persevere until the job is completed.”

Simon walked a little to the side, as if he were in a

large auditorium, put his hands into a new oratorical

position and continued, “Now you and I know, Randall,

that life isn’t always so cut and dried.  We all face

challenges and trials day in and day out.  Both

servants and free people.  We all have challenges.

We’re all in this together, folks. Life is not all

rainbows and daisies.”

Randall wondered if he was in the presence of a

madman.

Simon looked directly at Randall, “Maybe you stub your

toe, or maybe you lose something valuable, or maybe

your overseer is in a bad mood.”

Simon brought his hands together, prayer like, in

front of his chin, “Randall, let me let you in on a

big secret!  Are you ready?  What I want you to know

is that your overseers, guardians, and/or owners, are

human too!  That’s right.  They are human just like

you.  And you know what?  Just like you, they

sometimes make mistakes; they sometimes don’t get

things just right.”

Randall squirmed, embarrassed for Simon.

Simon took a few steps to the side and continued,

“They may, for example, fault you for poor work when

in fact you’ve done your very best.  They may call

something inadequate when in fact you’ve paid extra

attention to detail.”

“And worst of all, you have to face the consequences

of their poor judgment and there’s nothing you can do

but bare your behind and take whatever it is they

think you deserve.  But you know what?  That’s a part

of social servitude.  You aren’t alone.  Here in

little old Cedar Rapids alone there are almost 6000

social servants.  And just like the rest of the

country, that is roughly 4% of the population.  And

almost three quarters of the social servants in Cedar

Rapids are young men approximately your age.  That

again matches the national average.  And of those 6000

servants, only 1200 of them are lifers, again matching

the national average.”

“So that means there are 4500 social servants in Cedar

Rapids around your age.  Boys like you, who have gone

through the same kinds of experiences you have; the

same frustrations, the same joys, and the same

rewards.  4500 boys who, for whatever reason, have

surrendered their freedom to join a noble enterprise;

social servitude.”

Randall continued to stare at Simon, wondering if he

should try to call Dean on his cell phone.

“That’s 4500 boys just like you, who once were free,

and now are not.  And like you they have to do as they

are told.  Like you they get paddled and spanked if

their owners/overseers are unhappy with them.  And

like you doubtless soon will, they have to get their

penises locked up from time to time so their overseers

can fine tune them.”

“But you know what?  In survey after survey, the vast

majority of social servants express themselves as

being happy with their lot.  A far greater number of

servants, percentage wise, say they are happy and

content with their lot than free people say that.”

“And those servants who say that they are content with

their lot are servants who are passionate!

Passionate!”

Simon did an oratorical pause.  Randall tried to think

of a way he could get Simon to stop his motivation

speech. 

Simon continued, “I attend a lot of Young Handlers

Conferences and one of the things I hear over and

over again from my peers is their frustration at

finding out that an especially favorite servant of

theirs is afraid of them.  All such misperceptions, on

both the part of servants and their overseers are due

to a lack of communication.”  As Simon continued

speaking, Randall got up and started to walk out of

the room.  Simon stopped his speech and looked at

Randall confused.

Randall waved his hand at Simon. “It’s okay.  You keep

going.  I can still hear you.  I want to get a notepad

and pen so I can take notes on what you’re saying.”

Randall noted a surprised and pleased smile on Simon’s

face and made his way into the kitchen.

Once out of earshot, Randall grabbed a telephone and

quickly dialed his brother’s cell phone.  His brother

answered and Randall spoke in a hushed yet rushed

voice, “Dean, you’ve got to get back here.  I’m

afraid.  Simon is a nut.  A fucking nut.”

Dean was surprised, “What’s going on?  That’s not what

people say who know him.  And Earl knows him real

well.  Look, you’re probably just imagining things

because Simon is younger than you, and, let’s face it,

quite bright.  I’m sure everything is okay.  I simply

can’t miss this meeting.  I’m not coming back.  Just

do what he tells you.”

“But Dean, he’s loony tunes!  He’s acting very weird,

talking bullshit.  He’s a fucking fruitcake and I

should not have been left here alone with him!  I’m

scared.”

“Randall, you have to stop characterizing your

overseers in such a way.  That’s exactly the way you

talk about your overseers at work; that they are all

either nuts or else low life, inbred, trash.  That is

simply your arrogance and that is the kind of thing

you need to face, because your perceptions are not

reality.  It has already been proven.  Just listen to

what Simon says and I’m sure once you get rid of your

prejudices you’ll see that Simon has a lot of good

things to say.”

Randall was frantic, but kept his voice down, “Please

Dean.  I don’t trust the runt.  Short, insecure, guys

like Simon are nut jobs just waiting to explode.”

“Randall, I have to hang up now.  I’m about to be

introduced to some people.  You behave yourself!”

Dean hung up.  Randall, frustrated, found a notepad

and pen, and made his way back into the living room.

In the living room Simon was kneeling on the floor

digging into his open trainer’s case.

Simon had an expressionless look on his face.  As he

dug through his trainer’s case he spoke to Randall,

without looking at him, “I want to see what you look

like naked.  Take off your clothes!”

Randall wondered why Simon wasn’t continuing his

motivational speech, “Dude, what’s wrong?  Why aren’t

you continuing your speech?”

“Take all of your clothes off now.  I like to look at

naked slaves.”

Randall remained calm despite his fears, “Look man.  I

think you misunderstood my brother.  You are supposed

to be talking to me, or rather, instructing me in the

basics of service protocol.”

Simon nodded and looked at Randall, “Very good.  First

bit of protocol; you do exactly as your controlling

overseer orders and right now I am your controlling

overseer.  You do as your overseer orders each and

every time and in a summary fashion.  Now I’m

ordering you to take off all of your clothes!”

Randall was not about to be bossed around by a high

school kid, “No way, Jose!”

Dean took a folded ‘personnel clutch’ out of his

trainers case, extended it to its full five foot

length, lunged at Randall with it, grabbed him, along

with one of his arms around the mid-waist, squeezed

the handles of the clutch shut and locked them.

A personnel clutch is a device that holds a servant at

bay within two large closable jaws and allows a

handler to gain full controlling leverage over

servants who are much larger than the person

controlling the clutch.

Having Randall locked in the jaws of the clutch, Simon

was easily able to maneuver Randall around to the

middle of the room, which he did just in order to show

Randall how easy it was for him to control him.

Randall’s face showed his terror and Simon’s showed

his pleasure in having Randall in his clutch.

Simon relished his position over Randall and spoke

calmly as he held up a cell phone for Randall to see.

“I can call the police and have them come over here

and take your clothes off, or you can do it yourself.

If the police have to answer a social servant call,

that is an automatic five demerit points on your state

record.  Not good!  What’s it going to be?”

Simon’s self-satisfied smile was hard for Randall to

bear, but he knew that Simon had him.  He could not

risk involving the police.  Randall shook his head in

defeat and Simon unlocked him from the personnel

clutch.

Randall knelt on the floor and unbuckled his sandals,

then stood up and kicked them off.

He slowly unzipped his jumpsuit as Simon put his cell

phone back in his pocket.

Once bare, Randall put his hands in front of his

genitals.  Simon instructed him, “Hands at your sides,

Junior!”  Randall did as instructed. Simon then

commanded, “Walk over here and stand in front of me so

I can feel you up.”

As Randall walked towards Simon, Simon once again

smiled his broad schoolboy smile that scrunched up his

nose and revealed his teeth.

Simon put a hand on top of Randall’s bald head and ran

it down to his shoulders.  Next he grasped Randall’s

biceps, elbows, and forearms, squeezing and feeling

the mass of each part.  Then he spun Randall around

and ran his hand along Randall’s back and along both

buttocks.  He spun Randall around again and examined

his penis and his balls.  He continued running his

hand down Randall’s legs, grasping folds of flesh on

the inside and outside of the full length of Randall’s

legs. 

There was Randall, the naked slave, being felt up by a

short, dark haired, high school junior with a big

smile on his face.

When Simon had finished feeling Randall up, he went to

his trainer’s case and selected a leash on a recoiler

and a training whip.  As he approached Randall,

Randall was scared. “Please, Simon.  What are you

going to do?”

Simon snapped the leash to Randall’s genital choke

cinch.  Simon showed Randall the whip. “Do exactly as

I say, because if you don’t I’ll have to use this

training whip.  Slaves tell me that a stroke of this

‘trainer’ feels like a grease burn.”

Simon walked away from Randall about five feet,

uncoiling the leash as he walked.  He stood and looked

at Randall at the end of the leash.  Simon did nothing

but stare and smile.  Randall, nervous and scared,

sweated.  In a sudden move Simon yanked on the leash,

causing the cinch to choke the base of Randall’s cock

and balls.  Randall let out a terrified scream.  The

choke cinch started to release itself after a couple

of seconds.  Simon explained, “That ‘s what will

happen to you if you try to get away from me.”

Simon enjoyed having the naked Randall on a leash.  He

relished Randall’s fear and taunted him.

“Your brother told me that you used to be a hotshot.

You used to get all dressed up and enjoyed impressing

everyone.  Looking at you now I find it hard to

believe that you ever could impress anyone, naked boy!”

Randall spoke timidly, “I was looking forward to

hearing more of what you have to say.  Why are you not

continuing your speech?”

Simon smirked, “Oh, really?  That isn’t what I heard

you tell your brother.  What I heard you tell him was

that I was a fucking runt who was talking bullshit!”

Randall trembled, “Oh no.  That isn’t what I said.

You didn’t hear correctly.  What I said was…”

Simon interrupted Randall, “What you said was that I

was a nut job waiting to explode.”  Simon did an angry

smile and held up his training whip menacingly, “Well

maybe it’s time for me to just go ahead and explode!”

Randall stood, frozen in fear.  Simon approached him,

the leash in one hand, and the whip in the other.  He put

his face to Randall’s ear. “You little jack shit

faggot!  No fucking slave calls me names!  I will not

be mocked by some a fucking loser in a yellow rehab

jumpsuit!”

Simon put his whip in the same hand he held the leash,

and with his free hand reached to his crotch and

rubbed the outline of his cock.  “I know all about

you, Randall, and you’re a loser through and through.

Laughable.  I can tell you that the ‘Stage One’ program

isn’t going to work for you.  You will end up in the

Total Reform Program and from there you will graduate

to lifer status.  I know it.  I’ve seen it happen

often enough with boys like you.  You don’t have what

it takes to be a free boy!”

Simon was getting sadistically excited and Randall

was never more frightened in his entire life.  Simon

curled his upper lip in a nasty snarl. “Kneel down on

the floor, on all fours, like a puppy dog!”

Randall knelt, swallowing in fear, “Please, Simon.”

Simon licked his curled lip with his tongue, “Stick

that ass up as high as you can get it.  Go on, stick

it up nice and high just like you’re some bitch

begging her man to take her from the rear!”

Randall tried to raise his ass and stick it out as far

as he could, but when he started crying he lost his

pose.  Simon touched his ass with the whip, “Come on,

get it back in position!”

Randall got his ass back in position and Simon

reveled in the view beneath him.  He swung the whip

with all his might and sliced Randall’s ass.  Randall

screamed long, high, and hard.  When he fell to the

floor in agony, Simon did an extreme pull on the

leash, which caused Randall’s cinch to tighten

sharply.  Randall screamed again at the pinched flesh

and Simon kept tugging at the leash, “Back in

position, or I’ll tighten it some more!”

Randall, in pain, scrambled to get back in position

with his ass sticking out high.  Simon whipped him

again and again Randall fell to the floor screaming.

Simon tugged again on the leash, only this time did

not wait for Randall to get back into position on all

fours; instead he just started whipping Randall

repeatedly wherever the whip landed: on his ass, legs,

thighs, back, and shoulders.

As Simon swung the whip, he swore out loud, “Gawwdammn

worthless slaves like you should be tortured.  You’re

no better than filth.”  As Simon wildly whipped

Randall, Randall screamed and pleaded for mercy.

Simon shouted, “When I finish giving you what you

deserve, I’m then going to find out how fancy pants

boys like you suck cock!  But first I’m going to make

sure you find out how this trainer whip feels on your

chest!”

As Randall cringed on the floor and screamed for help

with all of his strength, he was unaware that Dean,

unnoticed, had just entered the room and had grabbed

Simon’s whipping arm. “What in the hell’s going on?”

Simon immediately stood at attention, poised himself,

and spoke like a cadet would to his officer. “Mr.

Inslee, sir, he was disrespectful, sir.  Sir, I was

only doing my duty, sir!”

Randall scrambled on his hands and knees as fast as he

could to a corner of the room, pulling the leash

attached to his genital cinch behind him as he

scrambled.

Simon spoke as if nothing untoward had happened. “Mr.

Inslee, sir, I have completed Randall’s punishment

sir.  Would you like me stay and continue with

Randall’s training?”

To Be Continued…

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