Masters' Night In

This is a sequel to

The Shopping Spree

. It will make more sense if you've already read that story. For those who may not be familiar with American customs, the Duke-UNC basketball game is one of the main religious festivals in the state of North Carolina.

"The honor of your presence is required by your Masters this Saturday to help us celebrate the Duke-UNC game. Reply 'Yes' to confirm."

The text message from Master Jim aroused me from another boring Wednesday stand up team meeting (why call it a "Stand Up Meeting" when no one does?). Since that memorable shopping trip at Thanksgiving, I had met the other Masters (except for Master George) for the occasional lunch time feeding and a memorable makeout session with Master Jim in the back of Master Fred's SUV after work one evening, with him acting as lookout. As we moved from agenda item 5 (boring) to agenda item 6 (unnecessary), I typed 'Yes' and hit Enter.

I barely had time to stifle yet another yawn and pretend to be taking notes when my phone buzzed again. "You'll receive an email with instructions. Follow them to the letter. Wait until you leave work to read it."

I was now fully awake and energized. I typed "Yes, Master." I was actually able to focus on the rest of the meeting, knowing something special was awaiting me. Even though I wasn't that much of a basketball fan (a dark secret that must never to be revealed in this hotbed of college sports), I was a huge fan of my Masters and couldn't wait to meet all of them together again. A moment later, my phone vibrated and the new mail alert popped up. Suddenly, I wanted the meeting to go on longer, to avoid embarrassing myself when I stood up at the end.

When the meeting ended, I went to the men's room, entered a stall and lowered my khakis. There was a small spot on my briefs that threatened to reach my khakis if not dealt with. I cleaned the tip of my cock with my finger and enjoyed the taste of my excitement, but not for long: I didn't want to exacerbate the problem. I took some toilet paper and draped it over the front of my briefs, putting it in position to soak up any new fluids and act as a barrier between my moist briefs and my pants. I understood why women wore panty liners and wondered if that was something for me to consider. Not for the first time, I felt my grip on manliness, on manhood itself, starting to slip.

As usual, I was the last person to leave my cubicle farm. I walked down the four flights of stairs, taking them two at a time in an effort to get to my car more quickly and read my Masters' instructions. I hoped the guard on duty was making his rounds so there would be no one in the lobby to see the growing bulge in my pants.

I inhaled deeply of the cold January wind as I made my way to the parking deck, hoping the chill would reach deeply enough to bring my body under control. I got in the car and started it. While waiting for it to warm up, I pulled out my phone and opened the email from Master Jim.

Galatea,

We're pleased you're able to join us this Saturday. We're getting together to watch the Duke-UNC game. You will serve us before, during and after the game. Here are the steps you will follow to prepare yourself for service:

1. Starting now, you may not touch your crotch area for purposes of self-pleasure. Your focus, as always, is our pleasure.

2. As soon as is practical after you read this, you will purchase a medium butt plug, suitable lubricant, an enema bulb or bag and travel size disinfectant wipes.

3. When you arrive home, you will clean yourself out with warm water and insert the plug. You will wear it until bedtime, then remove and clean it.

4. Thursday and Friday, you will reinsert the plug after your morning ablutions, which will include an internal cleaning with warm water. When you arrive at work, you will remove it so it doesn't distract you from your job. Before you leave for home, reinsert it and leave it in place unti you go to bed.

5. You will eat only salad and fruit tonight and for lunch and supper tomorow. Breakfasts will be fruit and protein. You may only eat meats at breafast.

6. You will drink a minimum of 16 ounces of water tonight and 64 ounces Thursday and Friday. You may have any nonalcoholic, sugar free drinks you wish.

7. Beginning at 1:00 PM Friday, you will stop eating solid food. At 3:00 PM, you will drink a cup of senna tea. You may have jello, fruit ices and bouillon, but no milk products.

8. Saturday, prepare as usual. You will wear sweat pants, a sweat shirt and sneakers (no underwear or socks). Arrive at Master Fred's house between 9:45 and 10:00 AM. Once you arrive, you'll be given further instructions, which you will follow to the letter.

9. Entry into the house will constitute voluntary consent to our use of you in the manner of our choosing as long as you remain in the house. By entering, you explicitly consent to obey our instructions without question.

10. Attached are copies of our latest STD tests. All of us are clean.

We look forward to an enjoyable afternoon with our special slave.

P.S. I know you are intelligent enough to understand our expectations. I trust you know how we treasure you and that you're safe with us.

I had to take several calming breaths as the full implications of the email sank in. The last time I had seen instructions this thorough was before my last colonoscopy. It was clear they were going to use my ass. Not only that, they wouldn't have attached test results unless they intended to use me bareback. I had little experience with anal sex and Master Jim knew that. In the almost two months since my first outing with them, the Masters had used only my mouth to satisfy their needs.

Master Jim's postscript was correct: I was intelligent enough to understand their expectations. They were going to take me completely. I had, of course, fantasized about this moment (who hasn't?), of being penetrated and filled by one cock after another, of being the center of an evening of debauchery, but this was turning real. I had learned early on in my explorations to be careful of what I wished for: on more than one occasion, I had learned the hard way to leave some fantasies unfulfilled. By agreeing to this, what was I letting myself in for?

Sure, we had played before and I enjoyed theier company and their cocks, but what did I really know about them? Would they be gentle, or would they tear into me without regard for internal damage? And what about Master Pete? I knew the delight he took in twisting my nipples and watching me hiss with pain. Would he want to hear my screams as he slammed his cock into me? Would he laugh as the blood trickled out of my torn anus?

My breathing was growing shallow and I sensed the beginning of a panic attack. I closed my eyes and forced myself to take deep breaths, then moved into box breathing to get myself under control. Enjoying my steady cum diet was one thing, but this was too much, too soon.

I texted Master Jim. "Sir, I need to talk to you as soon as possible."

I pulled out of the parking deck and started home. I was about a mile down the road when my phone rang. I inserted my ear bud and answered the phone. It was Master Jim.

"Hello, Sir."

"Soma, are you all right?"

"Honestly, I don't know, Sir. I need to talk to you about your email," I quavered.

"Is there a problem with the instructions?"

"No, Sir...I mean, yes, Sir...I mean...I don't know what I mean, Sir."

His tone became soft but urgent. "Can you meet me at Fred's house now?"

I pulled into a parking lot.

"I don't have any plans tonight, Sir."

"You do now. I'm going to call him and let him know he has two guests coming over for supper. What do you want on your pizza?"

"No onions or anchovies. Otherwise, whatever you and Master Fred want, Sir."

"What I want is for us to have a conversation. No Masters tonight: just Jim, Fred and Soma. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry I'm acting this stupid..."

"Stop that talk

now

," he cut me off sternly. "Never apologize for expressing yourself fully and openly to us, ever. How long will it take you to get there?"

I checked my phone. "About 25 minutes, Sir."

"I'll be there in fifteen. Drive carefully."

"You too, Sir," I said as he hung up. I followed my phone's directions and headed to Fred's house for what I was sure would be the last time.

Stupid, stupid, stupid Soma: you are such a wuss. You're never going to get what you want, because you're too much of a coward.

Somehow, I made it to Fred's house in one piece. I walked to the door, thankful for the chilly breeze giving my eyes an excuse to water.

Man up, Soma...you're not a girl...not yet, anyway.

I rang the doorbell and was greeted by Master Jim.

"Come in, Soma. Fred's at a meeting and won't be back until around 8:00. I ordered pizza for us while we wait."

"Thank you, Mas.., er, Jim, but I thought I was off everything but salad and fruit."

"I'm giving you dispensation tonight," he chuckled. "I have a pot of coffee brewing. Would you like a cup?"

"Yes, please. I could use it."

I took off my jacket and my shoes, left them in the foyer and walked into the living room. The fireplace was burning but the bearskin rug was missing. I grinned wistfully, remembering the last time I was here, enjoying the taste of all my Masters' cocks, repeating the same pledge to each of them:

I pledge to give you the pleasure you deserve and to keep your cock well satisfied.

And now, I was on the verge of breaking that pledge...

"It was quite an evening, wasn't it?" My reverie was broken by Jim, who walked in carrying two mugs of coffee and set them down on the table next to the sofa.

"I should have known you were a mind reader," I smiled at him.

"I am a man of many talents," he replied, patting the sofa. "Sit down and have some java while you tell me your troubles."

The scent of perfectly brewed coffee from freshly ground beans delighted my nose. I sat on the sofa and took a sip, savoring its goodness, while Jim sat next to me. His thigh touched mine.

"Do you want to talk now or wait for Fred to get home?"

"I don't know, Sir...I'm probably just being silly and overthinking things. I'm very good at that," I said quietly, looking at the floor.

He took my chin in his hand and lifted my head. Holding my cheeks, he held my face in a position where I had to keep my eyes on his. His brown eyes showed concern as he searched my blue eyes, looking for the truth.

"Soma, how many times do I have to remind you of how valuable you are to us? To me? If you have concerns about us, or about what we're doing, that's not silly."

To my surprise, he pulled me closer and planted a brief kiss on my lips. My eyes widened and he pulled his lips back, still holding my head.

"Now, tell me what's troubling you."

"Could we wait for Fred to get here, Sir? I think I need to talk with both of you at the same time to be sure we understand each other correctly. In the meantime, I'd just like to sit next to you."

We drank our coffee in silence, each lost in thought. My mind was starting to relax. I felt comfortable sitting next to Jim; I was where I belonged

if I don't blow it like I usually do

. I was trying to focus on what I would say when Fred arrived, but the scent of Jim's manliness and the memory of his lips on mine stirred other thoughts in my mind...and elsewhere. I tried to adjust myself without squirming, but Jim glanced down to my crotch, then up to my eyes. He smiled.

"Need some help with that?" he asked.

"That would be jumping the gun," Fred came into the room, unzipping his jacket, startling us both. "No fun for our Soma until we celebrate the Tar Heels' win, remember?"

Jim shook his head to signal him, but I squeezed his thigh as I stood to face Fred.

"Fred...it's OK for me to call you that tonight, isn't it, Sir? Thank you. I'm glad you're here. I trust your meeting went well."

Before he could answer, I walked over, pulled his head down to mine and welcomed him with a kiss. Our lips parted and I took the initiative, attacking his tongue with mine. He dropped his jacket to the floor and wrapped his arms around me. We played tonsil hockey and I grew painfully hard grinding against him until I heard a coughing sound behind me. I broke off the kiss and stepped back. Fred looked at me in amazment.

"What brought that on, Soma?"

"I wanted to see how it would feel, Sir."

"And?"

I smiled. "It felt really good."

It did feel good, but why the hell did I do that? I never initiate kissing men.

"So I see," he replied, looking meaningfully at my crotch.

"Why don't you get a cup of coffee and sit down, Sir? Take a load off."

"That's very nice of you to let me get a cup of coffee in my own house. But, for you, Soma, anything."

He walked into the kitchen and, following Jim's finger, I sat in a chair he had positioned to face the middle of the sofa. I took a gulp of lukewarm coffee and looked abashedly at him while we waited for Fred to join Jim on the sofa.

I was painfully aware of my erection and drank more of the tepid coffee, focusing on the room temperature bitterness of the brew in an attempt to redirect my blood flow upward. My concentration was broken by Fred, who had taken his place on the sofa and held his mug in both hands.

"What's on your mind, Soma?"

I squirmed in my chair. "Well, Sir, it's probably nothing more than nerves on my part..."

"Nerves? About what?"

"About Saturday, Sir."

"You can't come Saturday? Or don't you want to come?"

"Neither, Sir. I'm really looking forward to seeing all of you together again and to giving you pleasure. It's just..."

"Just what, Soma?"

"Well, Sir, it's the instructions..." They waited for me to continue. "They're very...detailed."

"Those were Pete's idea," Jim clarified. "He's very detailed oriented."

"Indeed," I replied. "From the directions, it seems clear you plan to have you way with my ass..."

"An interesting choice of words, but correct," confirmed Fred.

"...and the addition of your STD tests indicates you don't plan to use condoms."

"I told you, Fred, he's smart enough to read between the lines. Is that your problem, Soma? You want us to wear condoms?"

I considered my response to that question. Was that it? For a few moments, the only sound was Fred nursing his coffee, not in a hurry for my answer.

"It's not that, Sir. I've often fantasized about having a man fill me with his cum, and even more about being in the center of a gangbang. Who hasn't?"

"Not me," answered Jim, which broke up all of us. The laughter was what I needed.

I grinned. "Good...if I'm going to be gangbanged, I don't want to share being on the receiving end. Anyway, I trust you all and I appreciate you getting tested. I'll take a trip to the Health Department tomorrow and get my own test...sauce for the goose, after all. It's only fair.

"But the level of detail did give me pause, Sir. I understand wanting me to be squeaky clean for anal play, but I've never been given instructions this in depth since my last colonoscopy. Truth to tell, I appreciate that level of prep, since I have a morbid fear of leaving fecal matter on a man's cock."

Fred spurted a mouthful of coffee. "Did you say 'fecal matter'?"

I blushed. "Yes, Sir. I grew up in a strict home. We didn't use bad language and I've never wanted to have a potty mouth. It's a sign of a bad vocabulary. I know, Sirs," I added, looking at their amused expressions, "That was a long time ago, but it's stuck with me. I'm a pretty messed up person."

"As messed up people go, I've seen worse," answered Jim. "I think it's rather cute."

"I'd say it's very ladylike," Fred added, not unkindly. "And it's quite charming, Soma."

"Thank you, Sirs. I know you mean it and I appreciate your kindness more than you know. It's just that..."

"That what?" asked Jim.

"It's hard to explain, Sir. What you want me to do is a dream come true. Being your dressed up slave girl and pleasuring all your cocks that night was an amazing experience for me. Having a room here and being able to meet with each of you and be fed your cum has made me very happy.

"When I read your email, I thought about how great it would be to be a maid at your party. Yes, Sir, I said 'maid.' I know I'm not trans; I'm not even a good looking man, let alone a passable crossdresser. But you know how much I enjoyed that shopping trip and how it made me feel to be your woman...please, Sirs, don't laugh. I know it's ridiculous..."

Fred interrupted me. "It's not ridiculous at all, Soma. Why do you think that email was addressed to Galatea? Do you think we don't know how you feel? Do you think we haven't talked about you among ourselves?"

"You have?"

"Of course we have," interjected Jim. "And here's what we see when we look at you. Of course you're physically male. And, given your situation, you're not going to turn into a sissy, nor do we want you to: we're too old for that and so are you. Your body may be male, but your spirit, your inner essence, is not. We see your inner feminine in how you behave with us, in your refusal to have a potty mouth, in your disregard for how a "man" should behave.

"We weren't looking for Natalie Mars. We weren't just looking for an on call cocksucker. We were looking for a unicorn: someone who would give us pleasure while not focusing on their own; someone who wouldn't be a doormat, or needy, but would respect our boundaries, just as we would respect theirs, someone with a sharp and sensual mind who would dedicate that mind to satisfying our desires and theirs. We were looking for someone who would let us mold them into our perfect courtesan. That's what we were looking for."

"

Were

, Sir?"

"We found her," said Jim.

"Who, Sir?"

"Don't play coy," Fred said, "You know who...Galatea."

"Please, Sirs, don't play games with me," I laughed, surprising myself with the bitterness and self-loathing I heard in my own voice. "I'm not a unicorn. I'm just a horny old man who's only good enough to be a glory hole slut, an on call cocksucking freak..."

"Soma! Stop! Right! Now!" I hadn't heard Jim speak so angrily...ever. Not that I could blame him. I had shown them how pathetic I really was, what a loser I was, what a loser I'd always been. Look at how pitiful I was: I was crying. I hadn't humiliated myself by crying in decades. The one thing I had going for me, my self-control, was in shreds. And I had just blown the best thing that had happened to me.

Way to go, Soma, your track record is intact. Once a loser, always a loser...

I felt arms lifting me out of my chair and holding me tightly. Fred was rubbing my back and whispering softly in my ear.

"It's OK...go ahead and cry. It's OK."

He guided me to the sofa and sat us both down. I lay my head on his shoulder and blubbered, completely out of control for the first time...ever? My life, my self-image was built on my iron control of my emotions. That was gone, along with my self-respect, washed away in a deluge of tears over 40 years in the making. I felt his arms around my shoulders, his hand stroking my cheek and Jim gently pulling my legs onto his lap, where he stroked them gently. The only sound was my irregular snuffling.

Well, Soma, you've gone and had your breakdown. Congratulations: you've just blown your last chance for fulfillment. Enjoy your dotage.

I focused on putting my emotions back behind the walls where they belonged. I was about to start my box breathing when the doorbell rang.

"Damn!" said Fred, "That will be the pizza."

"Don't get up", Jim said, "I'll take care of it."

Fred and I were alone. He continued to comfort me, rubbing my hair. I looked up at him with blurry eyes.