Big Poppa ~ Part II

17.

Pryce stepped out of the car. As always, he followed Jean closely, watching the man’s every move. He saw him looking at the almost-finished cabin, and noticed the tension. Jean had been tense all morning, he had noticed. He almost freaked out now. As they were in public, he didn’t try to relieve the obvious mental pain. Somehow, that took more willpower than to accept a whip.

Pryce was only nineteen. He knew that for certain, although he didn’t exactly know when he was born. Until Jean named him, his name had been Brian. He had no last name. He didn’t know what had happened to his parents. Perhaps it was just as well, that he didn’t recall anything.
He was taken away when he was six. Two men came, and they had taken him for a ride in a big, blinded car. He was brought to a large farmhouse. There were a few other children. He barely saw them. He spent most of his time indoors, with a stern tutor, who taught him everything about obedience, submission and sex.

He had practiced for hours; long, dreadful hours, with dildos and restraints. He was taught to breathe with a full mask on. They had taught him how to control his muscles when he was tied up, or even hanged against the wall. He had learned to breathe while a cock got slammed into his throat -that had been the worst, he remembered. The first time the dildo hit the soft bit at the end of his mouth, he had puked.
Of course, the punishment had been severe. Being locked up in a dark closet for twenty-four hours without food or water wasn’t fun. After that, he had become an expert in deep-throating.

All the time, the men had promised him he would be taken away by a nice master, who would take care of him and love him. He had no idea what love meant, but the men had showed him with a dildo in yet another hole of his body. He quite enjoyed that one, actually. He knew exactly how to use his muscles to make it even more pleasant to be penetrated.

The men only used dildos, never their own cocks. He had never tasted sperm -only his own, as he was curious- and had never been fucked for real. They never whipped him, as it would damage his carefully preserved smooth skin. He was used to getting hurt, though. The men had used electric shocks, to prepare him for pain.

He had endured it without complaints, as the men kept telling him he would be rewarded by a loving, caring master. Eventually, they had told him about Jean.

Jean was a master with frustrations, they had told him. The man was young, very handsome, but blind at one eye and he was missing a finger. Other people had done that to him, and now he was hurt inside. To feel better, he would hurt Brian. To him, it only made sense. The man would use a whip, and they showed it to him, giving him one soft smack on his thigh, which wasn’t too bad. They had warned him, as well. Jean had a rich and important lover. It was strictly forbidden to do anything else than accepting the whip, and maybe a cock if the master demanded it. He should never fall in love.

Brian had no idea what that meant. Even the way the men tried to explain the feelings made no sense to him at all. But he promised, quietly, as the obedient slave that he had become.

Then, the day of his departure had come. He had been taken away, was dressed up in leather, and was told he had no name anymore, until his new master named him. He had waited for hours, patiently. Salvage would come. Now, he would be rewarded for all his hard work and practicing.
When his mask had been pulled away, he had been pleasantly surprised. But right from the start, it went all wrong...

He liked his name. Pryce. It sounded like a reward, in itself. He had expected to be hurt and fucked the very first moment, but his new master had taken him in a bath. And he had satisfied him with his hand... It had been so good, he had almost forgotten his training. He had grabbed the man’s hair. And he hadn’t been punished...
He had been glad he could suck him later, showing off what he could do, but then the master had been disappointed with him. He didn’t understand what he did wrong. He did what he was taught to do... How could it be wrong?
He got punished for being good, and got rewarded when he was bad. It was confusing.

The man never hurt him, ever. He had given him a collar, closed with a padlock, which was a good feeling. Now he belonged. He was owned, just like the men had promised him, and all was good. But he never got hurt...

Oh, he simply loved the way the man penetrated him. The slow, careful sliding inside of him made him all warm and fuzzy, and often dragged the greatest climaxes from him. His trainers had told him climaxing without permission was bad, but Jean rewarded him for it. He used kisses as reward. Pryce loved those kisses. He adored the hot tongue, and couldn’t get enough of it. He thrived on the rewards, so he began to pay attention to what his master liked. In his own way, he was completely devoted.

Until that silly feeling began.

It wasn’t bad, as such. It was even pleasant, that ticklish feeling in his stomach every time he touched Jean. His orgasms were better than ever, now he had that added feeling, and he could come easily without being touched. He still loved the kisses, the cuddles, and he just couldn’t get enough of the sex.

Then, Jean had started asking those questions. He has asked him if he loved him, and oh yes, he did. He had asked if he was in love, and suddenly, he knew what he was feeling for him.

He was a bad, bad slave. He had failed the most important order of them all. Never fall in love. But Jean hadn’t punished him.

In fact, now Jean was all stressed out, telling him he was a bad master. How could he be a bad master? He was so sweet, so loving, so handsome, and so incredible good in bed. Pryce would never call him a bad master. For him, the man was absolutely perfect.

He followed Jean to the cabins, watching the tension, and stepped up against his back. “I love you,” he whispered in his ear.

The door opened, and Delwyn ran out to welcome his friend.