Dog Days Are Beginning Ch 12

Note: The events in this story are purely fantasy. In real life, please show respect and practise safe and consensual sex.

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Chapter 12 - Week 2

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The next week was a mixed bag for Steve. He did a bit better at work but struggled during some duties. He had started the week off well, completely his duties efficiently and to the praise of the junior staff he had assisted. That was until the wonderful Stan decided to sabotage some of his competition. Stan had done well with tripping other interns up who appeared to be on the ascent and messing up their chances of being promoted.

Steve had been doing some data entry on a computer for one of the junior staff members who was grateful to Steve for picking up the slack. It was definitely going to put him in good standing. He was just putting the finishing touches to the files when Stan had come up to Steve looking all flustered.

Stan had been so animated and talked in such a rushed tone that Steve had been taken in by his performance. "Steve, Pete needs you urgently, come quick."

"What is it?" Steve asked, standing up.

"No time to explain, he's in the canteen, you better go quickly."

Steve left the computer unattended and ran to find Pete. When he found him and asked what was up, Pete had just looked at Steve blankly, not knowing what he was talking about. When he had explained about Stan, Pete just dismissed him and ordered him to return to his work. Confused, it wasn't until he had returned to the computer that he realised his folly. The data he had been submitting had been wiped from the system.

Steve's stomach dropped and with fury he sought out Stan. When he found him, a suited member of staff had his arms wrapped around Stan and was kissing the twink. The older gentlemen gave out to Steve for interrupting and dismissed Steve's accusations, returning to making out with Stan. Steve had to walk away, taking one last envious glance at the glinting silver collar around Stan's neck. Steve's chances at promotion were greatly hampered due to the mess up with the data entry and he was given out to in front of the others, causing him deep humiliation.

*****

At home, things were changing too. Later that evening, Mark and Steve were tidying away the groceries after their weekly trip to the supermarket.

"I heard things were a bit rough. I thought you were going to try harder at work?" Mark asked Steve.

"I've been trying, babe, but that asshole Stan is such a snake. He's out to ruin the rest of us," Steve almost threw down a bag of rice in frustration."

Mark stopped packing away the food and stared at Steve, his shoulders drooping. "What did we say about proper titles, boy? Come on, if you want to do better you're going to have to take being a sub seriously at home too. I know it's weird but let's at least try."

Steve sighed. He had forgotten himself due to his frustration at work. Mark had started enforcing proper titles for them both, thus Steve was now referred to as "boy" and Mark was "Sir" or "Master." He wasn't allowed to call Mark "babe" or "Mark" anymore. Steve had been surprised when Mark had suggested it but truth be told, it was coming eventually with suggestions being passed down from his boss. Steve was still getting used to it and he knew Mark was feeling awkward about having to enforce his dominance. This was all new to him too.

"I'm sorry... Sir," Steve lowered his head, sorting through the shopping bags to distract himself.

"Good, boy," Mark patted him on the head. "We'll get there," he smiled.

It was strange for Steve to be called "boy" by his husband. But he knew that this was the new norm. Mark was his owner after all so he had to get used to the idea of being his husband's boy, his sub. But he did appreciate Mark's patience in all this. His support meant a lot during this weird transitionary period where everything was changing. He just hoped it wouldn't change who they were intrinsically, or their relationship at its core.

"Just don't let him get to you, boy," Mark said.

"I know... Sir. It's just, he did delete those files, I know he did," Steve tried to keep calm.

"He may have done so, but you have to be careful. Watch your back in there, and don't go running about the place accusing people of things. It only makes you look unprofessional, and reflects badly on me too. That make sense?"

"Yeah, I get you," Steve sighed.

Mark looked up at Steve expectantly.

"Sir," Steve added quickly.

"That's my boy," Mark came over to Steve and gave him a hug, wrapping his arms around him. "You'll be the best sub in no time." Mark kissed Steve. "Now, why don't you get undressed and into your sub uniform and I'll put these away."

*****

Another change came later on in the week, and transformed both Steve an Mark further onto their roles. Steve got home and changed into his leather collar and jockstrap after work. He had gradually gotten used to being nearly naked at home as he barely wore clothes anymore, only out in public when it was necessary. Of course, there were times when he forgot and Mark had to remind him, but it was another new norm that had become Steve's reality.

Steve looped the cool black leather around his neck. He still got chills putting it around his neck, and, truth be told, it aroused him a bit to have the weight of the restrictive accessory pressing on him.

Downstairs, Mark was preparing dinner. He turned around when Steve entered and was holding something in his hands, smiling. "This is for you," Mark held out a gold padlock. Engraved on the padlock were the words: "Master Mark's property -- sub Steve."

"It's an important item to symbolise our relationship. We both know that I own you and I'm your Master, and you're my boy, but this really highlights you as true property, my property. It will also help you as seeing yourself as a piece of property, as my property, and as a true sub."

The weight of Mark's words swept over Steve. They were so serious, as if taken out of a Dom's handbook for dominance. He seemed to have overcome his initial awkwardness of becoming more dominant and was taking it in stride. Whoever he was taking advice from, they knew their stuff. He wasn't taking things by half measures, Steve thought, gulping. Mark was very supportive and loving, of course, but day by day his dominance seemed to be growing as he came up with new ideas to transform their marriage as husbands into that of a Dom/sub. Sure, some of it was kinky and even arousing but many more things scared him as Steve slipped further into subdom.

"Well, what do you think?" Mark smiled.

"I have to wear that?" Steve raised his gaze towards his Master.

"It's not about 'have to,' it's more about 'want to.' Think about it like our wedding rings, but instead of a symbol of marriage, it's a symbol of your devotion to me as my sub, it's a symbol of love. You want to love me, you want to serve me, you want to be obedient, you want to be submission. If anything, you should be begging me to put it on you as it marks you as mine."

Mark had always been muscular and physically strong, but at that moment, looking at Mark, Steve saw a greater power emanating from Mark. It was psychological, emotional, spiritual. Steve felt it. It was the power of a Norm, an Owner, a Master. And that power took hold of him, and he had to admit, he was aroused by that power, by his Master.

"T-t-thank you... Master," Steve whispered.

"You're welcome, my boy," Mark kissed Steve, holding him and caressing his skin. He took one of the D-rings of Steve's collar and locked the padlock onto it. It secured with a defiant click and swung from the metal. Steve head drooped slightly under the weight of the padlock. Maybe that was another small method of enforcing more submission.

"My lovely sub," Mark rubbed the lock and then caressed Steve's face. It would have been a strange sight for someone who didn't know any better. Steve standing there in a jockstrap and collar with a padlock that symbolised his ownership swinging from it while his fully clothed husband, now Master, stood in front of him telling him how much he loved him as his property. If the Steve from a few weeks ago transported himself to now he would have laughed and thought it was a dream. But this was, in fact, his reality now, and there was much more to come.

*****

Another evening later in the week saw a new development for Steve's submission. Steve was cooking dinner in his jockstrap and padlocked collar. He was trying to ensure the oil in the frying pan wouldn't spatter and burn his skin. Being almost naked made cooking a much more difficult chore. What was the life of a sub without challenges?

Steve was frying the fish as Mark came in the door, just home from gym. Mark came up behind Steve and gave him a sweaty hug, his muscular arms wrapping around him. Steve smelled the stink off him.

"Hey, boy, that smells nice," Mark kissed him on the cheek. Steve felt the tickle of his Master's beard on his skin.

"Thank you, Sir, it's nearly finished," Steve was now in the full swing of calling Mark "Sir."

"Good job, I'm just going to jump into the shower. Set everything out on the table and I'll be down in a few," Mark ran upstairs.

Mark had become more authoritative as he grew into his role as Dom, giving orders in a casual way but in ordering Steve around nonetheless. Steve had been reluctant at first, feeling weird about his husband telling him to do things, but knew to become more of a sub and prove himself at work he needed to obey Mark and see him as his Master and owner. It had started off casually with getting Mark a beer from the fridge and had developed into doing chores around the house like the laundry or cooking dinner. Mostly, he was happy to do it as he knew that was the role of a sub, but sometimes he wished he could just relax and have Mark do something for him. But that would be resisting his role as a sub and he didn't want to ruin his progress or anger Mark.

Mark and Steve ate at the dinner table, chatting away casually about their day, Steve in his sub uniform, Mark in a t-shirt and sweatpants. It would have been a strange sight without any context. Steve had struggled at first during dinner with the padlock swinging from his collar, but he had developed a way of moving so the padlock wouldn't touch off the food in his plate or knock against his chin. He had to remain steady when manoeuvring or looking down to get food. He guessed it was another way to subjugate subs into being more stoic. Mark had just smiled at him when he had struggled, seeming to enjoy Steve's predicament.

After dinner, Steve cleaned up while Mark picked something to watching on TV in the living room. Steve came in and sat himself down on the couch next to Mark.

"Hey," Mark put the TV on mute, "so I was talking to your supervisor at work and he could see some improvements in your work, boy."

Steve smiled; glad he was making some progress.

"But," Mark went on, "you're still struggling. He said if you have any chance of being promoted you need to get more into the sub space. The senior staff are impressed with attitude and work ethic. Your work is good, but it's more the obedience that needs to be worked on."

"Well, I'm doing everything I can," Steve said, frustrated.

Mark glared at Steve. "Boy don't interrupt your Master; and that's another thing, you shouldn't be talking unless someone asks you a question. I'll be lenient while we grow into our roles, but at work, you need to respect your superiors. You're an inferior, remember, you don't have those rights."

Steve flinched, feeling as if he had been bitten. Mark was really upping his dominance. Steve lowered his head into a bow and muttered, "I'm sorry, Sir."

Mark placed a thumb below Steve's chin and gently raised Steve's face so he was looking him in the eyes. Mark gazed at him with a warm expression. "That's ok, boy. I know you're still learning to apply what you were taught at the facility to our home life. I love you. I just want you to do well. I'll help you get there." Mark leaned over and kissed Steve, holding his boy's face.

"One thing that was recommended from one of the guys at work was to get you more into the sub space by treating you as an object."

"Sir?" Steve was surprised. Where had Mark learned these things? It was like he had a handbook from one of the Doms at the training facility.

"I don't know too much about how subs are supposed to be treated, but one of the guys said that in order to define the roles of Doms and subs it helps to see subs as property or objects, so they're like a piece of owned furniture. So, try to think of yourself as an object, as a piece of my furniture. Where do you think furniture belongs?"

Steve was stumped. He didn't know where this analogy was going, and he surely didn't see himself as furniture. "Sorry, I don't know what you mean, Sir?"

"Ok, I'll keep it simple. Does furniture belong on a couch?"

"No, Sir?"

"Where does it belong, boy?"

Steve looked around. "On the floor, Sir?"

"Exactly, boy. And since you're a sub, an object, a piece of furniture, where do you think you belong?" Mark let that hang in the air.

Steve was gobsmacked. He just stared, mouth opened. "You want me to sit on the floor?" Steve forgot to properly address his Master due to his shock at Mark's request.

"That's 'Sir.' Don't' forget. And it's not about me telling you to sit on the floor, boy. This is for you to get into the sub space in terms of your thoughts. If you think of yourself as an object, something that people can use for their needs and their purposes, then they'll see that object as being valuable, they'll take care of that object, give it more prominence, give it the attention it deserves. But that object needs to be seen as an object that can be used and melded to meet their needs first. This is how you rise up the ranks. Does that make sense, boy?"

Steve pondered over what Mark's explanation. He was right. If he wanted to be seen as valuable at work, he needed to be seen as useful, as something the junior and senior staff could rely on for their tasks and duties. He had to be that object of their needs, and that involved thinking of himself as an object, both at work and at home. "Yes, Sir, it makes sense. I need to think of myself as an object, because as a sub, that's what I am. An object for use by you, Master, or the men at work." Steve exhaled and lowered himself off the couch, sitting himself on the floor by his Master's feet.

"Come around here, boy," Mark ordered Steve to sit at the side of the couch.

Steve crawled over to the side of the couch beside where Mark was sitting. He tried to find a comfortable position. He decided on sitting cross-legged as if he were meditating.

"This way I can sit back and you're on the floor beside me so I can reach down and pet you," Mark smiled down at Steve and rubbed his head as if he were a dog. "How do you feel, boy?"

"The floor is a bit hard, Sir."

"You'll get used to it, boy," Mark chuckled. "We will start with sitting on the floor. You can continue to sleep in my bed and sit at my table." Steve noticed Mark had started calling things "his" rather than "ours." "But, I meant, how do you feel now that you're place is on the floor? You can be honest. I want to hear your thoughts."

"Well, Sir. I've done it before at training, but I guess it's weird doing it at home. Like, sitting on the floor next to your husband who's on the couch, it's odd."

"I get you. It is strange changing how we have been before. And it's ok to feel weird about it. I do too, but we'll have to get over that. You need to think of yourself as an object. Objects don't require comfort like people. And that's what you are now. You are my husband, but now, more important, you're my sub, my property, you're not a person anymore, you're just an object, right boy?" Mark caressed Steve's face, rubbing his cheek. He stroked Steve like he was examining a possession, taking stock of it's beauty.

Steve had to remember his training. He had done this before. He had gotten into the mindset of objectification. He had done it before, but descending into the position of his husband's possession was different. He was now in equal standing to that of a lamp or table, objects he had once owned but were now part of a collection of items to which he belonged. Steve gulped and looked up at his owner on the couch. "Yes, I'm not a person, Master. I'm just an object, you're possession."

"Well done, boy," Mark smiled from ear to ear, his dark eyes were a mixture of mischief and warmth, it was a strange mix -- the power and love of a Dom. It was frightening to Steve, but he also knew there was comfort and safety with his Master. "Accepting that is a great step forward. You'll do brilliantly at work if you stick to that way of thinking."

Mark threw on a film, and they both settled into watching it, enjoying the light-hearted entertainment and escapism of the superhero movie. It was odd. They talked casually about the film, about their day, about whatever was on their minds, like they had always, as if they were back in their former lives as husbands, bar the fact that Mark and Steve addressed each other as "boy" and "Master" and the fact that Steve sat on the floor beside the couch in a jockstrap and padlocked collar. It was both familiar and foreign to their former selves.

From time to time, Mark reached down the side of the couch and caressed Steve, rubbing his head like a pet and caressing his face and body. It added to Steve's feeling of being a claimed possession, of being a sub, of being a mere object at his owner's disposal. His Master's touch was comforting and he welcomed the warmth of his muscular hands, but he couldn't help but feel further emasculation and pushed further into submission every time he was petted.

"I'm just an object," he repeated in his head over and over again to combat his resistance. "I'm my Master's possession," he tried to develop it into a mantra. The more he said it the more he welcomed the feeling of being petted, of being touched, and he knew emasculation wasn't something an object should feel, because he had no right to feel that way. He was just an object, there to be used, to be caressed as a possession. His owner had the right to use him, and he should feel grateful that his Master, or anyone, found use of him as an object.

Steve gazed up at his Master sitting on the couch, he looked on in awe at the beauty of his owner, his muscular bicep bulging against the t-shirt sleeve every time his arm lowered to pet him, his angular face with its strong jaw line under a dark beard serious as he watched the TV, his dark eyes that looked down on him from time to time, lovingly taking in his property on the floor.

And slowly, Steve's feelings of embarrassment transformed into arousal with every touch, with every caress, with every pet from his Master. Afterall, his Master had chosen him as his prized possession.