This story is sexual fantasy fiction, primarily about control and humiliation between adult men and includes water sports and destruction of clothes with some sexual situations. If you object to any of this then read no further. Any resemblance to persons past or present is purely coincidental.

This fills in the ‘missing night’ between parts 3 and 5 of Remote Controlled, as we find out just what happened to Jamie and Dan. It can be enjoyed entirely as a standalone adventure though!

The Sports Bar

Jamie had been spending the evening watching a movie at his place with his mate Dan. Now, the credits were rolling on what had turned out to be only a distinctly average thriller. Diverting but nothing more.

“Let's go out for a drink,” suggested Dan, grinning with a twinkle in his green eyes. Jamie’s eyes were focused on the empty pizza box that he was itching to clean away. “Hmmmmm...?” he replied distractedly.

“A drink—“ Dan repeated. “In a bar.”

“Now?” Jamie looked at the Liverpool football shirt and Adidas trackies that Dan was wearing. “I don't think I'll be going anywhere that allows people in dressed like that . . .”

“Ouch.” Dan feigned a hurt look and persisted. “I know a place—it's a sports bar!”

“Come on, you know I don't like watching football!”

“No TVs, just lots of lads in sporty kit.”

Jamie cast him a sideways glance. Okay, he admitted, that had piqued his interest. A button had been pressed. “Hmmm, okkkkaaaay . . .”

“Cool! Let's go then!” Dan enthusiastically said, jumping up from the couch. When Jamie hesitated, Dan asked, “What's wrong?”

“I'm just going to tidy away that pizza box first . . .”

*  *  *

As they were locking up the flat, their neighbour from across the hall appeared from the stairwell.

“Hey—welcome back!” Jamie called out cheerfully.

“Hey—Dan, Jamie. Yeah, just got back,” he said, appearing quite flustered and out of breath.

“We’re off to some sort of sports bar,” Jamie explained with a roll of his eyes.

“Love what you’ve done with your Tns!” said Dan, eyeing their neighbour’s mismatched Nikes.

“Thanks,” the neighbour said, fidgeting from one foot to the other. “Sorry. Need to piss real urgently!”

Jamie laughed and gave a wink. “We’ll let you go then—wouldn’t want you to piss yourself in the hall. Catch you later.”

“Yeah, cool.”

They passed by him as he fumbled with his keys. Jamie glanced back as they reached the doors to the staircase and saw the welcome sight of his friend and neighbour pissing himself in the hallway. He hadn’t gotten his door open in time, after all. In short order, the wetness spread down his leg and across his thigh; the light blue denim turned dark down to his knee. Jamie imagined it soaking into his socks and possibly pooling in his trainers.

Dan was racing ahead down the stairs, and Jamie felt he should catch him up, but part of him (a very large part) wanted to find out what had happened to his neighbour and maybe get his hands on those piss-drenched clothes.

*  *  *

Jamie rested his back on the window of the tube. He still wasn't sure if this was a good idea and wished, for a moment, that London still thought it was the Antarctic and the underground couldn't run past 10pm. He chided himself for being so negative; some alcohol and loads of lads in sporty gear . . . it should be fun. He looked down at his Nike Tns and white socks showing out from his Levi jeans and thought Yeah. Good look. He particularly liked these Levi’s and how well they worked with his simple plain white Lacoste tee. Mainly because they were both 'gifts' from Dan . . .


J: “Hi Dan, I'm in your bedroom at the moment”

D: Jamie, what are you doing?”

J: “I'm going to cut up all your underwear.”

D: “Jamie! Wtf?!”

J: “I’ll do it unless you get me a new pair of jeans and a tee.”

D: “Hey—that's not fair!”

J: “You know that nice pair of Bjorn Borgs you like? Check your messages . . .”

D: “Dude—I loved those!

J: “All of the rest will be like that unless . . . I expect the receipt to be forwarded to my email within 10 minutes.”

It was so nice of him to buy me these gifts, Jamie thought. Even if he did need a little push. He grinned at Dan.

Dan scowled in return. “I’m aware of what you are wearing and sooo aware of what you are thinking . . .” he said. “And I haven't forgiven you for that yet!”.

Jamie pulled up his tee and showed the waistband of 'his' red boxers. He smirked.

Dan’s mouth fell open. “Did you steal my Ralph Laurens as well?!”

“Well, if you hadn't noticed until now you really do have too much underwear!” Jamie countered. “When we get home, you'll reduce down to no more than twenty pairs.”


The smile disappeared from Jamie's face. “Okay, ten.” He gave his slave a stern look and added, “One more word and it will be only one. I'm too generous for your own good sometimes. Remember who's in charge here. Okay?”

Dan stared at Jamie defiantly.

Jamie issued an ultimatum. “Say it now, and say it loud and clear. I won’t ask again . . .” The menace lingered in the air for a moment.

Dan glanced around the half-filled carriage, then dropped his eyes to the floor and replied, “Yes, Sir.”

It wasn’t long before the tube arrived at their stop. After a short walk from the Vauxhall station, they descended into a basement underneath what looked like a fetish type shop, specifically bondage. Jamie made a mental note to look it up when he got home. Dan had raced ahead to the bar and was engaged in an enthusiastic conversation with the doorman. He pointed to Jamie and the doorman waved him over. “Enjoy your evening, Sir.” Dan gave Jamie a wink and pulled him inside.

Jamie wasn't sure what he expected, but as soon as they walked into the bar area, he could see a couple of lads wearing very tight Chelsea football kits. One of which had his shorts and jock around his ankles as he was being blown by a third guy wearing a Lycra wrestling singlet. The second lad in the Chelsea gear was just sipping his drink and watching, with a gleam in his eye and a bulge in his trackies.

Jamie was a bit surprised and automatically averted his eyes from the scene, but he found only intimacy wherever he looked. He wasn't easily shocked, but he was a bit unnerved by the sheer flagrancy of it. Just here in the bar; someone about to cum while others ordered drinks and crisps. Jamie noted a sign—'No water sports at the bar'—and decided it was just about the only thing that wasn't allowed.

“Let's grab a drink,” said Dan.

The two lads sat and did just that, taking in the interesting activities around them and discussing which kits they liked the best. Dan turned down an offer from one guy who wanted his Adidas Liverpool shirt. “Thanks, but I'm just here with my mate for a few drinks. And the view.”

Jamie certainly liked the view. Maybe it wasn't a life affirming view from the top of a cliff as he gazed out across a landscape in quiet serenity, but it would do for now. Dan tapped him on his arm, snapping him back into the here and now.

“Show will be starting soon,” Dan announced. “You coming?”

“Show?” Jamie asked. It was news to him.

“Yeah, the owner puts on a show with one or more of his slaves in the back room. If you are lucky you get to help him.” Dan gave that smile again that Jamie just couldn’t resist.

Dan wasn’t the only one who could have his buttons pushed . . .

*  *  *

They were sitting on the sofa, playing a game and drinking. Dan,” Jamie said, “would you do anything I asked you?” His tone was casual, but only on the surface.

Mate, you know I'd do anything for you,” Dan replied absently, focused on the game.

I mean, it would be cool if you obeyed me.”

Dan paused the game and looked at Jamie as if he had just told a bad joke. “Err, obeyed you? Why would I obey a fuckwit like you?!”

What I meant was, it would be fun if you were, well, like my slave.”

Dan cocked an eyebrow.Your slave?! Dude, that's a bit extreme!”

Okay, slave is a bit extreme; I wouldn't be handcuffing and tying you up,” Jamie explained. “Servant might be a better word.”

Insane might be a better word!” Dan looked confused and a bit shocked, as if he still wasn’t sure what to make of the conversation.

Jamie cast a sideways glance at Dan and said, “Maybe if you lose a bet?” He knew Dan couldn’t resist a bet. Bait cast.

It would have to be a fucking huge pay off if I won!” Dan replied. He sounded more intrigued now than shocked. Hook accepted.

Okay, if Liverpool do not win their next match, you become my servant. If they win, I'll pay your share of the rent for the next year.” Dan’s eyes went wide. It was a huge stake and Jamie knew he was reeling him in; time for the kicker. “And a new pair of trainers each month.”

Fuck. Fuck!” Dan exclaimed. “Are you serious? Fuck.”

Jamie was serious. He could afford to lose that; he just had to make Dan forget what he could lose . . .

Dan smirked. “You really know nothing about football, do you? We've got Aston Villa at home. Yeah, I'll take those odds! Fuck yeah!” He held out his hand and grinned. “Shake!”

All that was left to do was reel him in . . .

*  *  *

Even though he had no idea what kind of show the bar put on in the back room, Jamie clapped Dan on the shoulder and said, “Mmhhhh, well doesn't this night just get better? Yeah okay, lead the way, servant!”

Dan rolled his eyes; he knew the master role was never going to get boring for Jamie.

“And yes, I did see your eyes roll,” Jamie warned. “So, expect some punishment later.”

Dan choked back a reply. “Yes, Sir. This way . . .” he said instead, reminding himself it was best not to push it right now.

Not yet.

The back room was busy and there was a buzz in the air. At the rear was a stage with a young lad wearing just a pair of football shorts. His hands were tied above his head, which was covered with a cloth bag, and his legs were spread-eagled. Jamie was warming to this more and more.

People were milling around. When Dan saw a gap towards the front, he grabbed Jamie by the arm and pulled him to it.

Pleased, Jamie said, “Good job, boy. Now why don't you get me another drink?”

“Of course, oh wondrous Sir!”

Jamie eyed his slave suspiciously. “Are you taking the piss?”

“I wouldn't dream of it . . . Sir.” Jamie submissively lowered his eyes, then flicked a look at the stage and left to get his master’s drink.

The lights dimmed and a man walked onstage. He was wearing tight white Adidas trackies and a football shirt. Jamie had no idea which team the shirt was for but it certainly looked good stretched across this person’s chest, providing an ample view of his defined pecs. It did not take long for his eyes to drift down to the man’s huge thighs, barely hidden beneath the taut material of his pants. His short-cropped hair and neatly shaved beard also piqued his interest. He must have been 40ish and was just Jamie's type.

The man’s voice rang out from the stage. “Everyone having fun? Excellent! Welcome to my little show. I'm Steve to my friends. Sir to my slaves.” He pointed to the young man strung up behind him and said, “Like this one—isn't that right, slave?” The lad replied with a loud military-style 'Yes, Sir!' Steve gave a satisfied nod and said, “Well done, boy.” Then, he grinned at the audience and announced, “I'm going to allow a couple of lucky people here to help me make him suffer.” Still facing the audience, he directed a rhetorical question to the lad. “Is that okay, boy?”

“Yes, Sir! If that pleases you!”

Steve continued. “This boy is called Slave 6. He used to be called Jake until I saw him at the Job Centre. I offered him a 'position'—well, lots of positions actually—and although he was nervous at first, this is now how he spends his time: as Slave 6, wearing just football shorts. No mobile, no money, nothing. He is worthless.” The emcee scowled, then gave the audience a leering grin as he proclaimed, “And tonight is his first time in public!” A cheer went up from the crowd.

While everyone around him punched their fists into the air, Jamie was busy making mental notes—Dan was going to have his training upped. The idea of him doing the cleaning in just a pair of briefs or football shorts was very exciting. Completely unselfconscious about being in a crowd, he rearranged his ever-growing cock in his jeans.

Steve moved towards Slave 6 and pulled the hood off his head. The lad blinked as his eyes adjusted, and when they did, a small look of panic crossed his face. Jamie noticed his master mouth 'you will be fine' to Slave 6, and was surprised at this moment of tenderness and care.

“You,” Steve yelled out, pointing at the crowd. “Hey, you!” Jamie looked around, wondering if he was pointing at him. Finally, Jamie prodded his own Lacoste-clad chest and mouthed, 'Me?' Steve nodded and beckoned him onto the stage. Jamie looked around for Dan but Dan was nowhere to be seen. He hesitated for a moment, then walked forward.

*  *  *

Dan sat at the bar watching as Jamie went onstage. It was all working out far better than he expected. The lad who’d hit on him earlier appeared again. “Alright, mate! Your friend looks like he's busy, so you want a drink?”

Hmmmm, he really wanted to watch what was going to happen to Jamie but this lad had something about him. “Yeah okay, thanks. Lager—any will do.” He winced, suddenly realising that it made him sound a bit cheap.

“And I still want your shirt,” the guy said, grinning at Dan. “I'm Drew, by the way.”

“Dan. You don't give up do you?” He took a closer look at what Drew was wearing: white Nike FC tee, black Nike trackies and an awesome pair of Nike Tns. He pointed at the trainers. “You can have my shirt, but it'll cost you those Tns.” That'll put him off, he thought.

But it didn’t. “Ha,” Drew responded. “Rock, paper, scissors—best of three. I get your shirt if I win, you get my Tns if you win.” He handed Dan his drink with a challenging look. Thing was, Dan couldn't resist a game.

“Yeah, whatever,” Dan sighed, trying to act nonchalant.

The first round Dan won, paper to rock, but he lost the second one, rock to scissors. He was now a little anxious as it appeared that Drew was just throwing a rock each time. He wouldn't do it a third time, would he? He couldn't! On the count of three Dan put out scissors.

“And rock beats scissors!” Drew crowed. “Bad luck, mate. I’ll have that shirt now, please.”

Dan sighed; he hated being outplayed. “Now? Aww come on, I've still got to get home!”

“You didn't bring any spare clothes?” Drew countered. “That was a brave bet then! Tell you what, I'll let you win it back but it has to come off first.” He grinned, holding out his hands. “Let me help you.” Dan sighed again and raised his arms as Drew lifted the Liverpool shirt up and then over his head. He felt a little self-conscious sat at the bar shirtless.

“So how do I get my shirt back?” asked Dan.

“You don't. It's mine now; you’ll never get to wear it again. I kinda lied when I said I’d let you win it back. But you can have mine . . . if you win the next round.”

“Oh. Okay, it's a nice shirt,” Dan responded, jumping at the chance to avoid going home shirtless. “Not as nice as mine, but . . .”

“But if you lose, your trackies are mine.”

Oh shit, thought Dan, this was escalating way too quickly! He loved a good game but decided it was time to cut his losses. “Err, no, it’s okay. Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

“I mean, how are you going to get home otherwise?” Drew replied, running his fingers down Dan’s slightly hairy bare chest. “You’re going to attract some attention around here as well, you know. And seeing how shy you are, that probably isn't what you want.”

Drew was right of course. Dan could see that there were already a few other guys taking note of what was happening. Damn him, Dan thought and reached out a fist.

*  *  *

Jamie stood on the stage with Steve's arm around his shoulder. “Don't worry,” Steve told him. “We're going to have some fun!” Jamie smiled uncertainly and a few cheers went up from the audience. They obviously had a better idea of what fun to expect than Jamie did.

“So, what's your name?” Steve continued. “And are you a master or a sub?”

“Jamie and a master.”

“And where is your slave?”

Jamie nodded in the direction of the bar. “I sent him to get more drinks.”

“You let him out of your sight?” Steve exclaimed, feigning horror. “You never know what they will get up to!” Turning to the audience he added with a smirk, “So, a new master then.” A ripple of laughter went around the room. “Never mind, we all need to start somewhere!” Jamie suddenly felt a little self-conscious.

“Aww, come on Jamie, just teasing—I'll help you learn some tricks. Here have these . . .” Steve presented a pair of scissors from his pocket to Jamie. “I think you know what these are for,” he said, guiding him towards Slave 6.

Jamie was almost nose to nose with Slave 6 and he liked what he saw. Green eyes and blonde hair cropped high and tight, and just wearing football shorts. Despite the emcee’s earlier reassurance, he still looked really nervous. Jamie reached out and gently ran his fingers down the lad’s chest. Slave 6 flinched, locking gazes with Jamie for a moment before quickly looking down to the floor. Jamie could feel the slave's erratic exhalations on his face. Looking for permission, he turned to Steve, who nodded and pursed his lips.

Jamie stepped closer and kissed Slave 6 on the lips. After a few seconds, the slave opened his mouth to allow him full access. Jamie slipped his hand down the slave's shorts and liked what he found. The next thing he knew, Steve was tapping him on the shoulder.

“Eh, mate, that's my property you're squatting in,” the emcee chided. Jamie snapped back into reality and realised the crowd was loving the show. For a moment, he’d almost forgotten he was standing on a stage in front of a crowd of horny strangers. “Sorry, Steve,” he mouthed with a sheepish look.

Steve waved off the apology. “It's okay—the slave needs to learn he is not only my slave but also has to serve whoever I choose. It is all good training.” He gestured toward the football shorts that Jake was wearing. “Now, the shorts . . .?”

Jamie nodded. Using the scissors, he made a small incision in the left leg of the white Arsenal shorts and then repeated the process on the other side. He caught and held Slave 6’s gaze, then with a violent motion ripped his shorts all the way up the waistband.

Jake gasped. He was finding his predicament both exciting and frightening. He had never been naked in public before, but he realised at that moment it would be happening really soon.

It had been a short but wild ride to reach this point. He had been just trying to find some work but no-one would give him a break. He always worked hard but that hadn’t seemed to count for anything; he was passed over for job after job. Then, one day, while standing outside the job centre in his lucky Adidas trackies, he got chatting to someone . . .

Hey, want a smoke?” the stranger asked, holding out a pack of cigs.

No, mate, I don't smoke.”

The stranger gestured toward the building behind them. “They got a job for you?”

Nah, mate, it fucking sucks. I work hard but I get fucked over time and time again.”

The owner of The Sports Bar nodded sympathetically. “I've got a job for you. Board and lodgings included.”


Yeah, just suited to someone like you.”

Eh, you're not some sort of freak, are you, mate?”

Turned out he was, but he was the sort of freak that Jake—known as Slave 6 once he accepted the position—could live with. The job had suited him, after all.

Jake thought he should be freaking out at this point, standing helpless and bound in front of a cheering crowd with his modesty hidden by only ripped football shorts—and those soon to go. But somehow it seemed okay that it was happening at the hands of someone who seemed equally nervous and out of his depth.

Jamie was older than Jake, but Jake could see that he obviously kept himself very fit. His eyes were deep, the laughter lines giving his face a kindness. Jake started to blush but was happy to see Jamie do the same thing. He nodded, and their eyes dropped to his ragged shorts.

Jake flinched as Jamie forcefully yanked the dangling flaps of material up and across, revealing the mesh brief lining beneath. Instinctively, Jamie moved to the side, and a cheer went up as the crowd saw his handiwork. With a flush of embarrassment, Jake's eyes darted sideways, following him. Jamie moved back in front, but closer this time, allowing Jake to kiss him while he pulled the mesh inner brief apart. Jake moaned at each ripping sound, half in pleasure and half in humiliation until their kiss—and the shorts—were finally done.

Jake looked down at the shredded remains of his shorts, his penis sticking up obscenely through the ragged material, and knew this was the inevitable moment. Jamie stood aside. The crowd cheered and whooped as they got their first sight of Slave 6 exposed.

“Not bad, guys, eh?” Steve said with a wicked grin. The crowd answered with thunderous agreement. Slave 6 was rock hard and embarrassed but still unable to cover himself. Jamie was rock hard too, but not as exposed. Still grinning, the emcee turned to his reluctant assistant who had grown less reluctant with each passing moment. “Your slave isn't back, is he, Jamie?” His grin grew wider. “I guess you'll have to do the next bit too . . .”

Jamie spun around to see where Dan was, but he was nowhere to be found. The next thing he knew, Steve’s hands were on his shoulders, gently but firmly pushing him to his knees.

Steve looked down at the kneeling ‘volunteer’ and smiled to himself. It was obvious that Jamie had never expected to be in this situation, with Slave 6’s cock only inches from his mouth, especially not with a raucous audience looking on. Savouring the moment, Steve pushed Jamie’s head closer to the twitching cock. As soon as Jamie realised what was expected, he broke out in a nervous sweat. He couldn’t help thinking about his promotion interview coming up next week. He hesitated for a moment before deciding he couldn’t do it with so much on the line, then started to get up.

*  *  *

Dan couldn't believe this was happening. He was sat at the bar in just his long red Under Armour boxer shorts, white Adidas socks and red limited edition New Balance Liverpool trainers. His phone and wallet were on the bar next to his pint, and to the side was a beaming Drew wearing his Liverpool shirt and Adidas trackies.

“Alright, Dan?” Drew smirked. “You’ve not said anything for a while.”

Dan glared back at him. It had been at least five minutes since he had lost to rock again. This lad had some balls.

Drew barked out a short laugh. “Ooooh, if looks could . . . slightly wound. Okay, alright, I'll give you one more chance.”

Uh-oh, thought Dan and grimaced. The phrase Trojan Horse leaped to the front of his brain.

“First, your underwear goes—call it an entry fee. Then one more game, best of three. You win, you get my trackies and tee. If I win, you'll be going home in my socks and briefs. Not that I reckon you'll get that far—from the looks of this crowd, if you walk around in that they will be ripped off and you’ll be fucked in no time!”

He was probably right. The crowd was fever pitched watching Jamie on his knees up on the stage. And he had seen what Drew was wearing when he changed into the trackies he’d lost to him: a pair of white Nike ankle socks and a pair of very tight white CK briefs.

Drew tapped the bar. “And your phone and wallet.” Dan's jaw dropped. What had he got himself into? “No, no way!” he blurted out.

Drew shrugged his shoulders, picked up the clothes he had won earlier, and started to move away. Dan could feel several pairs of eyes on him and panicked. “Okay, yes!” he called out. “Drew, please come back!”

The first three rounds were a draw—rock each. If he wasn't going to change, then Dan wasn't falling for that trap again. The fourth time Dan went paper. Drew went scissors. What the fuck?

“Hmmm, looks like you're one loss away from being in a lot of trouble . . .” Drew gloated. He reached for his phone and a few swipes later showed Dan a £190 Lacoste tracksuit. “And that's the first thing I'll be buying with your credit card, followed by a new pair of Tns. But I'll be nice and leave it at that. So, I'll cut up the card . . . and all the rest in here,” Drew said, picking up Dan’s wallet. Holy shit, thought Dan, this was on a whole different level. Drew flipped open the wallet. “Driver's licence in there too? Pity. You got any other bank cards?”

“No,” Dan answered with a mixture of defeat and relief in his voice.

“No bank cards, and you'll have no money or phone. You're going to have to offer yourself around in here just to get the fare home. And while you’re doing that, I'll be taking photos of you with your phone and posting them to your social media.”

The blood drained from Dan’s face “Aww, dude. Shit. Please, Drew, don't do this.”

“I like the begging—but it's too late, Danny, because I know you're enjoying it!” Drew reached over and stroked Dan’s rock-hard cock through his Under Armour boxer shorts. Dan hung his head; he hadn't even noticed the state he was in until that moment.

At the start of the night, all Dan wanted was to have a bit of fun with Jamie. Now, he was reeling, stuck as he was between a rock and a hard place. Regardless what he did, he was gonna be fucked, one way or the other.

*  *  *

Steve had liked the look of Jamie as soon as he saw him. His clients liked younger but he preferred his men a little more mature, as long as they had looked after themselves. And Jamie had.

Thanks to a friend, he had known Jamie was the one who was going to be his ‘assistant’ tonight. And it had been working out just fine—until this first refusal. When he looked down at Jamie kneeling on the stage and saw his expression slip from lustful to hesitant, Steve knew from experience that a little persuasion was required. No sticks involved, just a very pointy carrot . . .

Placing a firm hand on his ‘assistant’s’ shoulder, he prevented Jamie from standing up. Jamie looked at him in a startled fashion; he thought this role was a voluntary one. Steve could read the surprise on his face; he knew they always thought it was voluntary until they realized it wasn’t. That's how it always starts, thought Steve.

“Do it. Do it now, Jamie,” Steve said in a commanding voice. “I'll be a bit easier on you later.”

Jamie was utterly confused, both in his conflicted feelings and the meaning of Steve’s words. At the moment, the former was literally front and centre of his attention though. Steve’s grip on his shoulder was strong, so it didn't look like he had an option. And he wasn’t sure he even wanted an option.

He looked up at Slave 6, who was staring back with a huge grin on his face. As cute as that face was, Jamie really wanted to slap him right now. Instead, he opened his mouth and slid down Jake's shaft. The moaning from above was almost drowned out by the noise of the crowd. Soon though, the noise vanished in the distance and it was just him and Jake again.

This was far better than Steve had hoped for. Jamie and Slave 6 were in another world and even the crowd had fallen silent. Some could not believe what was happening, while others watched transfixed, slowly working their own cocks through the silky material of their shorts and trackies.

Jamie might be a master now but he was showing he also could be a slave. Steve wondered how Dan ended up being Jamie's slave in the first place; it seemed an odd relationship, not the traditional Master/Slave one. And there seemed to be some elasticity in the arrangement.

Slave 6 was moaning in a way that meant he would be delivering soon. Steve was most pleased with the show so far, but all good things . . . He turned to the audience and put his finger to his lips. A few of the regulars snickered, knowing the action was about to get even more interesting. Jamie was oblivious, still working religiously on Slave 6’s erection, while the emcee slowly pulled down a neck restraint from the pulley suspended above the stage. Then, creeping up from behind, he manoeuvred it near to Jamie's neck.

Timing is everything.


Jamie was rudely roused from his trance as the clamp snapped closed around his neck. He started to spin around to exclaim “What the fuck?” but only got as far as “What—" before Slave 6’s now free cock erupted violently again and again, coating Jamie's face, his hair and tee. He glared briefly at the laughing youth before turning to Steve.

“What the fuck?” he yelled, tugging at the neck restraint. “Let me go!”

“Sorry mate, dress code, innit.” Steve tugged lightly on the chain, which brought Jamie to his feet. “Slaves!” he called out, and two more young lads dressed only in football shorts appeared and helped Steve shackle Jamie's legs in a spreader and, after a small struggle, his arms into clamps from above.

Steve turned to the crowd. “So—what do we like?”

“Sportswear!” they replied.

“And how about what Jamie is wearing?”

“Booooo! Rubbish!” was the general response, together with a single shout of “fuckin’ awful!”

“Steve! Let me the fuck go!” Jamie snarled.

Steve grabbed a hold of a clump of Jamie's hair before snarling back, “You call me Sir! Okay, bitch?”

Jamie struggled against the newly applied restraints and said with as much indignation as he could muster, “No way!”

Steve turned to the crowd, theatrically raised an eyebrow, then frowned with displeasure at his uncooperative assistant. “Oh, Jamie, I was going to let you off lightly but now you've upset me. . .”

*  *  *

Tonight was turning out far better than Drew had expected. He was wearing a fit lad's clothes and was now watching him wanking off upside down and about to cum over his own face—in public, no less!

Drew had given Dan a ‘softer’ way out. Rather than make him earn cab fare by offering his services to the men in the bar—and then posting the highlights on Dan’s social media—Drew had offered his own trackies, tee and Tns to wear home. Naturally, there was a catch; if Dan lost the final round, he would have to cum on his own face right here in the bar. And he would lose his Under Armour boxers regardless of what happened. Once Dan had reluctantly agreed to the deal, Drew immediately reached over to the fly in Dan's long red underwear and ripped them open. Dan was taken by surprise as his erect penis sprung into view from the tattered shreds of his boxers. He had tried to protest (and stuff himself back into the ruined underwear before the whole bar witnessed his humiliation), but Drew reminded him in no uncertain terms that that was the agreement—and that the alternative was even more humiliating.

They had played another round of rock/paper/scissors. Drew had gone rock again and won the final game. Dan said nothing. Drew had beckoned over a couple of lads who were watching with great interest, and after enlisting their help in the unfolding drama, they had been keen to help. They had half carried Dan to one of the side rooms, then gently spun him around. As a finishing touch, they had leant him against a table upside down.

That had occurred only a minute or two ago, and already it looked like Dan was about to cum; it was obvious he was resigned to his fate and just wanted to get it over with and put on some clothes. There was no door on the room, and a rowdy group of lads who had followed all the action jockeyed for position just outside the doorway, cheering Dan on. The ‘escorts’ stood on either side of Dan, holding him upside-down; Drew stood only a few feet away, capturing every stroke of Dan’s humiliation on Dan’s phone.

Drew was a little sad he had lost his Tns but more than happy with the Liverpool New Balance trainers he had taken from Dan. An evil thought entered his mind.

No, he couldn’t . . .

He quickly made up his mind that yes, he could. Half playing to the group of lads looking on, he pulled down his trackies and briefs with a flourish and let loose a stream of piss into one of the Tns that Dan would wear home. Dan's eyes widened and he moaned something that might have been ‘no’. The onlookers roared their approval as Drew grinned and stepped closer to Dan. Standing directly over the upside-down lad, who looked as if he would cum at any moment, Drew slipped off his ‘new’ NBs and placed his socked foot over Dan’s face and nose. Then, he upended the Tns and poured the piss all over Dan.

Yes, this time it was definitely ‘no’ he heard. Oh well. Feeling the piss soaking through his socks, Drew pushed his wet toes into Dan's mouth. Dan tried to resist, but Drew didn't take no for an answer. Soon enough, his piss- and sock-covered toes were wiggling around in Dan's mouth.

Before long, Dan was moaning, and just at the last moment, Drew removed his foot and watched as seemingly endless streams of cum erupted from Dan’s cock, plastering the face, hair and chest of the hapless victim. When it was all over, Drew’s helpers let go and Dan slumped to the ground.

Drew tossed the soggy Nike trainer at him. “Get dressed then,” he ordered the humiliated slave. “I want to see what's happening on stage.”

“Can you get me a towel?” Dan croaked.

“No. Get your clothes on before I take them away.” Dan sighed and pulled off the remains of his wrecked red shorts, then tossed them aside and pulled Drew’s trackies up over his still-leaking cock. As soon as he put on the tee, the wide spray of cum that covered his torso began to soak through and wet patches appeared across his chest. Finally, he winced as he put his foot in the sopping Nike Tn, and before he knew it, Drew had grabbed his arm and dragged him out to the crowded bar area facing the stage.

*  *  *

Jamie's head was spinning. Not long ago he was enjoying an average film at home with his mate. Now he was chained up in a bar on the other side of town. He looked down as he felt his Nike Tns being taken off his feet, closely followed by his white socks.

“Hey, those are on dress code—they come back,” Steve chided the crowd. At least that's something, Jamie consoled himself.

He watched as one of his socks ended up stuffed in someone's mouth. Worse still, he spotted the other one being placed over a huge cock just in front of him. The lad’s trackies and shorts had been pulled down a few seconds before, very much to his surprise. He seemed okay with it now, though, as he was being kissed and fondled and wanked off by another lad in Jamie's sock.

Jamie flinched as Steve ran his hand down the Lacoste tee he was wearing. Then, with a knowing wink to the audience, the emcee moved behind him. He rested his hands briefly on Jamie's shoulders, and with one effortless but noisy destructive flourish, tore the t-shirt from top to bottom. Before Jamie even had a chance to react, the back was ripped, too, and the tee fell to his wrists in two sundered halves.

Jamie was still processing being so exposed when he spotted one of his Tns being pissed into and the contents being gulped down by a lad in a wrestling singlet. He looked around for his other shoe but was unable to spot it before a cheer went up; there it was, at the centre of at least ten lads, several of whom had already spent their loads over it. Despite the situation, or very possibly because of it, Jamie was rock hard. His attention was called back by a very aggressive nipple tweak by Steve.

The emcee smiled at him, then turned back to the excited crowd. “It’s time to see democracy in action!” he called out, gesturing to Jamie’s Levi’s. “Who thinks these jeans are on dress code?”

*  *  *

Dan was wondering how this evening had turned out quite like this. Here he was wearing another lad’s clothes and sat on his lap whilst watching his master being stripped on stage.

“Are you enjoying seeing this happen to him?” asked Drew.

“Yeah, I guess,” Dan answered. “I feel a bit bad for him though, actually.”

“Well, it's not your fault, is it? I mean it was his choice to come to a sports bar in jeans, wasn't it?”

Dan looked guiltily down at the floor. “Erm, well . . .” Drew pulled Dan's face towards his and kissed him. “I don't think Jamie is the right master for you. Imagine how much more badly I would treat you . . .” Drew slipped his hand down the front of Dan's newly acquired trackies and started to stroke his shaft.

“Drew!” Dan exclaimed, caught off-guard. “What are you doing?! Oh . . . um . . . fuck . . . can you stop that?” Dan whined. “I really don't want to . . . oh . . . ahhh . . . no, you need to stop—oh! Now, please, Drew . . .”

Drew couldn’t put up with the whining one moment longer, so, cupping his free hand on the back of Dan’s head to ensure there would be no resistance, he started to aggressively kiss his new toy. He needn’t have worried; there was no resistance—Dan opened his mouth with a whimper and a sigh and let him in. It wasn’t long before Dan’s body was writhing and twitching. Then, with what sounded a bit like ‘oh . . . fuck . . . no . . .’, Drew felt warm, sticky liquid ooze over his fingers. He broke off the kiss and smiled as a damp patch spread across the front of the trackies that, up until an hour ago, had been worn by him.

He brought his semen-covered hand up to Dan's lips. “Clean your scum off me.”

Dan hesitated for a moment, not sure he liked how this relationship was developing.

Drew tapped Dan’s lips with a cummy finger. “You have five seconds, or I start posting pictures of you from tonight.”

Dan remembered that Drew still had his phone. He sighed in resignation. “Yes, Sir.”

*  *  *

Jamie was shaking his head, pleading with Steve to stop as he popped the buttons all the way down the fly. But Steve stood behind him, grabbed both halves of the Levi’s and ripped the jeans asunder. Jamie was stunned that someone could so casually do such a thing with only his bare hands. The loud ripping sound brought another cheer from the turned-on crowd, and very soon the expensive jeans were just rags pooled around Jamie’s feet.

“And that's what happens when you disobey the dress code—we let you in and then strip you down!” Steve shouted, then took some keys from his pocket. Jamie sighed, wondering if his ordeal was finally over. But instead of unlocking Jamie, Steve used the keys to unlock Slave 6.

“I like you, Jamie, I really do,” he said, turning to the almost naked man. “So, I am going to help you out. I'm going to teach you to be a proper master! But you'll be in my debt.” He wagged a finger, then turned back to Jake. “Slave 6, come here. Kneel.” He pointed to the space in front of Jamie, who was still bound.

Slave 6 quickly did as he was told. Steve addressed him again: “Slave 6, Jamie is to be your new master as I train him.”

“Yes, Sir!” Jake replied without hesitation.

“But for now,” Steve continued, “you are both my slaves.” Jamie’s eyes went wide; Jake merely nodded assent. “Slave 6, destroy Slave Jamie's underwear and then deal with this,” Steve said, squeezing Jamie's erect cock through his red Ralph Lauren shorts. He lingered on the large wet spot. Jamie’s eyes went even wider.

Steve leaned in to Jamie. “Don't worry, we'll protect your modesty,” he said. After giving an exaggerated wink to the audience, he placed a hood over Jamie's head. The drunk and horny crowd erupted in laughter.

The irony of the exchange of positions wasn't lost on Slave 6, but he was excited that Jamie was to be his master. He eagerly shredded the expensive boxer shorts, then slipped his lips over Jamie's cock and enthusiastically dealt with it, as Steve had ordered.

*  *  *

Dan had finished licking Drew's fingers clean. He glanced at the stage, smiling as he witnessed Jamie's jeans torn in two. Despite his own unexpected adventure this evening everything else had gone to plan. After tonight he was going to be free.

Drew leaned into Dan and raised his voice just enough to be heard above the din in the bar. “So, why didn't you warn Jamie?”

“What do you mean?” Dan replied.

“Why didn't you tell him he had to wear sportswear to come here?”

“Um, well, I couldn't really tell my master what to do, could I?” Dan said unconvincingly. But privately, he knew exactly the reason he hadn’t warned Jamie . . .

*  *  *


J: Hi Dan, I'm in your bedroom at the moment

D: Jamie, what are you doing?

J: I'm going to cut up all your underwear.

D: Jamie! Wtf?!

J: I’ll do it unless you get me a new pair of jeans and a tee.

D: Hey—that's not fair!

J: You know that nice pair of Bjorn Borgs you like? Check your messages . . .

D: Aw, dude! Why did you do that???

J: All of the rest will be like that unless . . . I expect the receipt to be forwarded to my email within 10 minutes.

Dan was fuming; this had gone far enough! He selected a contact from his list and made the call:

Hi, yeah, it's Dan. Can you help me with something?”

If it's worth my while. You’d be a great addition to my group of slaves . . .”

I'm trying to get rid of a master, not get a new one. It's not that big a favour! And anyway, I think you'll like your reward. I just need to teach him a lesson.”

Hmmm. Okay, what's the plan?”

You remember a couple of months ago when you punished that lad at your club for turning up wearing jeans? You stripped him on stage, just tore his fucking clothes to shreds. I loved that! Can't remember what his name was . . .”

Neither can I but he's called Slave 7 now.”

Oh wow, hot! Anyway, I was thinking of bringing Jamie to the sportswear night . . . in jeans . . .”

Ah, the famous Jamie who has you under his thumb? Send me a photo of him and I'll think about it.”

Okay, thanks, Steve.”

He ended the call and quickly scanned through his photos before finding a selfie of him and Jamie. He sent it. A minute later, his phone buzzed and a text message arrived: “Bring him this Saturday. Tell the doorman he's my piñata.” Dan smiled with anticipation. Jamie wouldn’t know what hit him!

*  *  *

Drew poked Dan’s arm. “Dan? Dan!” he half shouted, trying to be heard above the excited noise of the crowd watching Jamie’s onstage humiliation. “Come back to me—you zoned out there!”

Dan gave him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I was just thinking of something . . .”

“So, let's go back to the bit where you were lying unconvincingly to me. And don't do it again!” Drew gave him a look to drive home the point. “You tricked Jamie, didn't you?”

Dan hesitated before deciding the best course of action when caught out was to tell the truth. “Yes. Yes, I did.” Despite his best effort, he couldn’t keep a small grin from his face.

“That's not a very nice thing to do, is it?” Drew responded.

“Well, he wasn't very nice to me,” Dan said. He gestured toward the stage. “Anyway, “he's obviously enjoying it!”

“It was his right to not be nice to you—you shouldn't have lost the bet, should you?” Drew gave him a pointed look.

“I guess . . .” Dan started to reply before his voice trailed off and his eyes went wide. “Hang on, how do you know—”

*  *  *

Up on the stage, the show had reached a climax. And so had Jamie. As the crowd cheered lustily, two thoughts were running through his head. The first was “aww fuck, I've just had a blow job in public . . .” The second was “aww fuck, I've just had a blow job in public!”

Slave 6 had paid little mind to the cheers from behind him, and his tongue gave Jamie’s cock one last clean before allowing it to leave his mouth. He was sad that his master had decided to give him to someone else, and he didn’t know how long it would last. But he knew it wasn’t for a slave like him to know. After the last few minutes with Jamie’s cock in his mouth, he did know one thing—he would enjoy serving him.

Meanwhile, Steve surveyed the scene with an approving smile. The night had turned out even better than he’d expected and he knew he was going to have a lot of fun training Jamie. He decided the would-be master could keep his name but he would start out as a slave. He looked at Jamie's naked arse and wondered how soon he would be using that. He only wondered for a moment, because he knew it would be soon.

“I am very happy you enjoyed the show,” Steve addressed the audience. “But it's nearly time for me to go and for you to, well, entertain yourselves.”

Steve liked putting on a show and was a firm believer that every good show deserves an encore. So, he grinned at the audience and added, “But before you go, I have someone I'd like you to meet. Well, some of you have seen him before . . . Slave 1—” he called out, scanning the room, “where are you?” Then, he slapped his own head and gave a wry smile. “It'll take me a while to get used to this. I forget he’s not Slave 1 anymore . . . What I meant to say was . . . Drew—where are you?”

*  *  *

Dan gaped at Drew, stunned. “I mean, how do you even know about the bet I had with Jamie?”

Drew smirked at the confusion on Dan's face; it was very much a picture. He was also pleased that he had completed the final task for Master. It had been an interesting journey, to say the least . . .

Slave 1, are you okay?” asked Steve after Slave 1 had returned from making sure all the other slaves were in their cages.

Thank you for asking, Master. I, um . . .”

Steve gave an understanding smile. “You tire of being a slave, don't you? You want to become a master? It is why I have been giving you more responsibilities recently.”

Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” Slave 1 replied, then added, “Sorry, Sir.”

Steve waved off the apology. “I saw that in you from the beginning, and I knew this time might come. I have one final task for you, this Saturday. It will be difficult but I know you will succeed. Then you will be free.”

Slave 1 choked back the tears. “Thank you, Sir. Thank you so much for everything you have done for me.”

Steve beckoned Slave 1 over and hugged him. “I have enjoyed you and will miss you. Thank you for everything you have done for me, Drew.”

Drew’s shoulders shook as he rested his head on Steve's shoulder and let the tears flow. Steve hugged him closer as he felt his own tears slide down his cheek.

From across the bar, Drew heard his former master’s voice: “Drew—where are you?”

Drew grinned and grabbed Dan’s arm excitedly. “That's me! Come on, let's go!” Before Dan had a chance to respond, he was being dragged to the stage by Drew. “I'm here, Master!” he shouted, waving his hand. Then he muttered, “Oh damn, being called Drew instead of Slave 1 is going to take a little while to get used to . . .”

Soon, Drew and Dan were on the stage with Steve, Slave 6 and a naked Jamie. The emcee grinned broadly and said, “Ah, Drew. Well done! I knew you wouldn't fail me! New clothes too, very nice. Much more fitting on you than on that pathetic creature.” He gestured toward Dan, then snickered at the obvious wet cum stain on the front of his ‘new’ trackies. If possible, Dan looked even more humiliated than before.

Steve turned toward the audience. “So, just to get you all up to speed, this slave . . .” Steve said, pointing at Dan “. . . tried to betray his Master.”

Boos rang out from the crowd. Dan looked around anxiously, but there was no escape.

“With Drew's help, this ungrateful slave is now here for judgement,” Steve explained. “This was the Slave formally known as One's final task for me, and he is now a free man.”

A ripple of applause broke out. Steve turned to Dan and asked, “Do you agree to be judged in front of your betters and accept your punishment?”

Dan was in trouble and there was no way out. And Drew was making sure he remembered who had his phone, waggling it in the air with a huge grin on his face. With no choice, Dan had to play along for the time being and hope an escape would present itself at some point. In his experience it always did. “Yes, go on then, Steve. Whatever,” he replied, affecting nonchalance.

Steve handed him a sheet of paper, headed Contract of Punishment, and a pen. “Sign this so we have proof you submitted to this of your own free will.” Dan signed it, deciding he would accept his punishment even if that meant being stripped and flogged. He just wanted to get this over with.

“Do you admit that you tried to betray your Master by arranging for him to be here tonight in jeans and hoping I would take Jamie as my slave?”

“Yes,” Dan admitted in a subdued voice.

More boos rang out.

Steve gave him a look of disgust. “This is an extreme crime against your master. A master who stands here naked while you are clothed! Drew, Slaves—undress this criminal so his master can use his clothes.”

Before Dan could even process this new humiliation, he was on the deck with hands all over him, plucking at his clothes. He felt his Tns come off and, a second later, his trackies were unceremoniously whisked off his legs. Lastly, the Nike tee was tugged over his head. In short order, he was left naked on the floor, desperately trying to hide his erect penis from the crowd.

At the same time, Steve released Jamie and a slave passed him the clothes that had just been taken from Dan. When Steve noticed the wet patch on the crotch of the trackies, he cast a glance at Drew. Drew just smiled sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders.

Steve proffered the soiled pants to Jamie. “Here you go, get dressed. Sorry about the slightly damp trackies, but they’re better than nothing.” He turned to Jake and ordered, “Slave 6, help your new master retrieve his trainers and socks.”

Jamie pulled on his ‘new’ clothes and was as amused at seeing the naked Slave 6 run the gauntlet of hands in the crowd to retrieve his shoes as he was angry at the trick Dan had played on him.

But Dan was paying the price for his treachery. The outfit he had originally worn to the bar that night had been lost to Drew in their bet. But Drew had taken pity on him and allowed him to win the clothes that he had been wearing. Now Dan had lost those too. As he pulled himself upright, covering his cock with one hand, he chastised himself that to lose one set of clothes in a night was careless, to do it twice was fucking moronic.

“Show some respect and stand up straight. Hands behind your back!” Steve barked at Dan, who stared back at him defiantly.

Steve was not amused. “Okay, have it your way. Drew?” Drew, who knew every one of his former master’s mannerisms, responded quickly. He grabbed Dan's arms and pinned them to his back. Dan was now fully exposed to the crowd who were enjoying the unexpected encore. A click later and his hands were tightly handcuffed behind his back. He struggled for a moment, then pathetically tried to cover his tackle by raising his knee. That didn’t work either. Throughout it all, his cock remained proudly standing at attention.

“I assume you want nothing more to do with your former slave?” Steve said to Jamie.

“Correct—I can't trust him after tonight.” Jamie looked at Dan, naked and on display for all to see. Despite Dan’s betrayal, he couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for his friend. While Jamie quite enjoyed being centre of attention, Dan was almost painfully shy and being exposed like this would be his worst nightmare. Still, Jamie had to remind himself that it was Dan’s own doing.

Steve turned to face Dan, who hung his head in humiliation. “Dan! You are released from Jamie. But due to your heinous crime, you forfeit your right to be a free man. I award you, your clothes and all your worldly possessions to Drew. You will no longer be called Dan—you will be called whatever your master decides you deserve. This judgement stands for the rest of your life, or until Drew decides otherwise.”

Dan's jaw dropped and he whimpered, “No, no, no . . .” in disbelief. Drew looked across to his former master and mouthed, ‘Thank you, Sir’.

Slave 6 returned from retrieving the rest of Jamie’s gear from the crowd. They had not fared well. “I'm sorry, Sir, but it is all, um, wet.”

Jamie looked down at the piss- and cum-soaked items and immediately started to tent his new trackies, his penis pushing at the wet patch left by Dan. It was all he could do to stop himself from adding to it through sheer force of will. He seriously thought about wearing his once sparkling white Nike Tns, but decided he would wear the ones that had been on Dan’s feet before he was abruptly stripped. He noticed one of them was wet, but not nearly as trashed as his old ones. He inhaled deeply at the sweet smell of piss.

“It is fine,” Jamie said to Slave 6. “It is not your fault. You have done well.”

“Yes, Sir! Thank you, Sir!” Slave 6 was happy that his new master was generous. Generous and fit. He vowed to give everything to serve his master.

Jamie started to pull on the sneakers that had started the evening as Drew’s (and then briefly belonged to Dan), but his new slave had a different idea.

“Sir? May I do that for you?” Slave 6 asked with a hopeful smile.

Jamie grinned, thinking his new slave was already so much better than his old one. As the damp, third-hand trainers were pulled onto his feet, he wiggled his toes in delight. He pointed to the other trashed trainers and gave Slave 6 his first order: “Put them on my ex-slave.”

Slave 6 carried the ruined Tns across to Dan, who was being restrained by Drew and Steve, and wordlessly put Jamie’s cum- and piss-drenched shoes on his feet. Dan hung his head at this new humiliation; the last thing he wanted was to have these cold abused sneakers on his feet.

Steve tossed a couple of padlocks towards Slave 6, who nodded and fastened them through the top lace hole on each shoe. It quickly dawned on Dan that they weren’t coming off unless his new master allowed it.

Steve nodded his approval, then turned to Dan’s former master. “Jamie, are you happy to stay with me in training until you feel confident handling Slave 6 properly?”

“Yes Sir,” Jamie replied. “That would be good. Thank you.”

“Very good! As you will be staying with me upstairs, could Drew and his new slave stay at your place for a time? It will give Drew a chance to go through Slave's former stuff and decide what happens to it.”

Jamie grinned and said, “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

Dan wanted to protest but he opened his mouth and nothing came out. He knew he was in no position to argue; naked and handcuffed, with piss- and cum-soaked shoes on his feet, and everything that was his—everything that was him—unceremoniously handed over to someone else in an instant. He bowed his head again and wondered how his plan had turned out so wrong.

Steve turned to his crowd. “Well, that's it for tonight! Thanks for your support! Enjoy the rest of the night and see you soon!”

He smiled a broad smile and permitted himself a bow as the air filled with cheers and the sound of loud applause.

*  *  *

The club had emptied and its patrons dispersed into the cool early morning air. Dan was slumped despondently in a chair as Steve glanced at him and put his arm around Drew. “So, whatcha going to call it?”

“Well,” Drew replied, “actually I was thinking about Slave One.” It was his own former name.

“Ha. Well, I’m not sure if he's ever going to live up to that name!”

Drew smiled at his former master. “Thanks,” he said with affection in his voice. He turned to Dan and beckoned for him. After a brief pause, Drew’s new slave trudged over.

“Stand up straight!” Drew commanded.

Dan sighed and obeyed.

“Always wondered what he looked like naked,” Steve said. “He’s not bad, is he?” He circled Dan, inspecting every part. “Lithe, decent body, nice shape.” His hands cupped Dan’s testicles, causing the humiliated lad to twitch. Dan shut his eyes and tried to pretend nothing was happening.

Steve tightened his grip on Dan’s balls until he cried out in pain. “If you ever disobey or upset Drew, I will personally ensure these no longer work,” he snarled. “Is that clear?”

“Yes!” Dan yelped. “That’s really hurting!”

“Yes, what?” Steve growled.

“Yes, Sir!”

Steve released his grip and started stroking Dan’s cock; to Dan’s horror he was hard again.

“Well, he looks like he enjoys a firm hand!” Steve chuckled. “I think you'll have some fun with this one.”

“It will have one set of work clothes and one set of casual.” Drew was looking and speaking to Steve, but his words were aimed squarely at his new slave. “I'll take anything else I like and destroy the rest, together with all its other shit—photos, letters, anything. It will be as if his former life never existed.” Slave One stared in shock at the ground, resigned to his fate.

“That sounds more than fair,” Steve replied. “I have trained you well. Are you keeping its hair?”

“Yeah, actually,” Drew answered. He ran his hand over Dan's short spiky hair, then pulled him closer so he was looking directly into his eyes. “The hair can stay—if it behaves. If not, it'll get shaved off.”

“He'll be bald next week then!” interjected Jamie.

"Maybe,” Drew responded. “I think he'll be fine for now, though."

“Are you okay to drive?” Steve asked Drew. “You can borrow my car to get it home if you like.”

“Thanks, but I only had two pints and that was hours ago. I needed to keep a clear head for your task.”

Steve nodded and gave his former slave a smile. “Take care. Keep in touch, okay? I'm here to help whenever you need it.”

“Yes, Sir!” Drew replied with a wink. They both laughed and embraced, celebrating an end and a new beginning.

Steve turned to the others and said, “Okay, Jamie and you slaves—time to get home and to bed! Jamie, you can sleep with me rather than go in the cages.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Jamie responded. “I'll enjoy that. Oh, hang on . . .” He fished around in the discarded remains of his jeans and tossed a set of keys to Drew. “I know you have Dan’s—I mean, Slave 1’s—set in your pocket but you may as well have my house keys as well.”

“Thanks, Jamie,” Drew replied. “I really appreciate you helping me out like this. How long before I need to move out?”

Jamie grinned. “I'll let you know. It will be a while, anyway. I'm a slow learner . . .” He gave a little knowing wink to Steve. “Just one thing though . . .”

“Yes, Jamie, anything,” Drew responded.

“Just keep the place clean, please . . .”

The Sports Bar by sneaked666
Edited by sz1415sneakers

© 2000 - 2023

Thank you for reading. If you like the sort of things in this story, why not check my novel, Remote Controlled. Oh, and there are loads more stories at EMD Stories - Imagination is Free!

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