JUSTIN’S POV
so it makes you wise to break the rules

Confidence can be a funny thing, a slippery thing that slinks away from you the moment you desperately need it--like when it vanishes upon your re-entry to the dungeon. You aren’t prepared for what you see. The slaves in the room, all but Sixty, are kneeling in front of the stage that was assembled in your absence and flanking them, behind each one, is a Master, standing and staring…at you.

Your eyes scan the room rapidly for Brian, and at first you don’t see him so your heart starts to pound like crazy and then you spy him leaning against a concrete pillar, his arms folded, the look on his face—it scares you. He doesn’t smile or nod or anything. How can he keep his face so blank? And then the cage Master, the one who gave Brian the cattle prod earlier, you see him standing on the stage, and he’s looking right at you and motioning for you to come forward. “Seventy-two,” he says, “How nice of you to join us.” You don’t instruct your feet to move, but they do anyway, shuffling on the cold floor, obeying this man you don’t even know. As you walk toward him and his authority, you get this insane rush beneath your skin like a thousand microscopic icicles just broke all at once.

You try to kneel when you get to him, but he won’t have it, his hand—rough—gripping your elbow and raising you right back up, so high that you end up on the stage instead of hiding behind it. This time when you try to look at Brian who’s off to your left, you’re instructed not to, “Look anywhere but here.” Sixty is maybe three feet away from you kneeling on an upholstered bench, and the cage Master is right in front of your face; you can smell his odd cologne and even the leather he’s wearing. It smells kind of cheap.

“Seventy-two, do you know how to listen?” he asks you.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I find that hard to believe, but we’ll see. You’ve put me in a very awkward position here. I’m the Head Master today, and I take my responsibilities very seriously, and I was in charge of making sure that you and your lover had an observation session worthy of the work we do here.” You don’t know what to say to that, and you try to look down again, and his thick fingers are under your chin and making that impossible. “I thought you just told me you know how to listen.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t like looking at me? Is that it?”

“No, sir.”

“You’d just rather look at your lover, right?”

You can’t fathom the punishment for lying so you don’t, “Yes, sir.”

He sighs, “See, if you had kept your clothes on and done as you were instructed, you’d be right next to him right now, but instead, you’re my problem. You’re actually fucking up something that we,” – he makes a sweeping motion to indicate all of the other participants --, “That we prepared for you as an observer.”

“I apologize,” you whisper.

“Turn around,” the man says, so you do, your toes wrapping around the edge of the plywood. “Put your hands behind your head.” You obey that command as well, interlacing your fingers. Seconds pass…and then you feel the unmistakable slice of a cane against your ass. It’s the worst sting you’ve ever felt; this guy has had a lot of practice with a cane. “Turn back around,” he tells you, and you do and then the lecture begins…

“Seventy-two, from the moment you walked in here today, we, every one of us, could tell exactly what you are. You’re a spoiled-rotten bitch, a bottom who gets off watching a top struggle to maintain his authority, and the only thing I want to hear out of your cock-sucking little mouth is, ‘Yes, sir.’ Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.” You start to shake inside and wonder if this man can tell.

“You think that everything’s a game, that we should feel honored that you’ve joined us here today. But you’re nothing to us but another one of them,” – another sweeping motion; this time to indicate the other slaves --, “You’re just another set of holes to fuck. You may come in here with diamonds around your neck and a very expensive ring on your finger, but you’re going to leave here on your knees.” And then the cage Master turns to Brian and says, “You weren’t kidding when you said he isn’t house broken. I mean, it’s clearly not for lack of trying. The marks tell the whole story.”

And finally Brian speaks—although not to you, “I’ve done everything I know how to do. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

......

“Well, I guess it’s time to find out,” the cage Master offers. “Now,” he declares, taking you by the arm and leading you around Sixty on the bench to the front of the stage, “Now we’re going to have a little show and tell. Seventy-two, I’d like you to look at all your fellow slaves and tell me what you have that they clearly do not.”

You scan the floor where the slaves are kneeling, back and forth, back and forth, and notice that everyone has a collar so it’s not that and everyone is naked like you are and the only thing you can think of you blurt out, “Blond hair?” And the entire room begins to laugh. “Okay, that was wrong,” you add, but in your defense, no one in that room is as blond as you are.

“Try again.”

All you can think of is a bank account in the Caymans, but there’s no way in hell you’re going to say that so you just shake your head and apologize, “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know. I mean, unless, it’s that I’m new, but that’s not something I have so I’m sorry; I don’t know. Sir.”

“Well, maybe this will help you figure it out,” he tells you as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out something lacy and pink. “Here, maybe if you put these on, you’ll be able to figure it out. The dykes leave them behind every once in a while.” You take what he’s handing you, realizing that it’s a pair of pink panties, and then you immediately know what you have that none of the other slaves have: an erection.

“Put those on, Seventy-two. See, if you had waited for your Master to transition you into becoming a full slave, you would’ve known that slaves don’t have erections at Release without permission and that not being able to control your own arousal tells us way more about what makes you tick than you’d ever want us to know. So now you’ll have two things that no other slave in here has.”

The panties are sort of scratchy and too small and you feel like an idiot trying to stuff your cock inside them and you steal the quickest of glances over at Brian and his hand is in his pants, and he's looking right at you as if the connection between you is a denial that his zipper is inching down.


(Lyrics from I Second that Emotion from Smokey Robinson and the Miracles.)