Little Amsterdam Slave.
This is a fiction.
My hand hit his face and he went sprawling. I hit him hard, square in his left cheek, It was open handed, so it was more of a slap, but the f***e told him in no uncertain terms that I was not fucking around. I am secretly afraid that if I had been my fist it would have broken his jaw.
God, I hate being this angry.
He was on the ground, moving to get to his knees, I strode the two steps to him; towering over him, my hands clutched into fists now.
I am very pissed off.
This little fucker, this bitch of a sissy cunt, was aware of the amount of time and energy I had invested in him. The on-line training, the patience I had exhibited, and the endless hours I had put into him.
FUCK! He just didn’t get it though… 19 year old boys like him thought the fucking world revolved around them and their little peckers, and their desires, and their precious little thoughts…
So, the first words out of my mouth are, “YOU FUCKING WORM! Who the fuck do you think you are? You are fucking NOTHING! WORTHLESS!! You are useless, not even the dirt on my shoe” I take a breath letting this sink in… “Why the FUCK do you think you can waste my fucking time?” I spat at him.
He is now fearfully looking up at me from his kneeling position, his left cheek glowing pink, in the shape of my hand. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he keeps mumbling over and over…
I quickly reach down with both hands to his collar and lift him to his feet and shake him “SHUT THE FUCK UP!!” I scream inches from his face, and throw him. He flies a few feet to the ground again… sprawled and whimpering…
I hate being this angry. I need to communicate to the boy that he had truly disappointed me. I am pacing now, he knows to stay on the ground, he has at least learned this through the hours of training I have “gifted” him.
I am disappointed, I feel like I have wasted my time, this little fucker does not see the incredible “gift” I have given him, in the form of my attention, and that is just not at all acceptable.
“I am truly disappointed in you.” I say finally, with as much calm as I can muster. I never lose my cool like this… I am still pacing, but getting a handle on myself now. In many ways It is the Daddies fault when his boy fucks up, and I have to accept that he just needed more training.
I go to a chair and settle in to it’s comfortable embrace… I sit for at least ten minutes without speaking, boy knows better than to speak first. At least the fuckhead has learned something.
I am considering that this will be the last time we will be together. I cannot allow my time and energy go to waste like this. I will give the boy the opportunity to prove that it is worthy of my attention… even though in reality, he is already showing me that he is not.
Finally, I tell boy to remove it’s clothes. One of the rules, is that when the boy comes to me, one of the first things it does is remove it’s clothes. boy is to be nude before me at all times, given that the very first thing today was a hand to the face, boy knows that from now on, it must wait for me to dictate it’s every move.
“Lie on your belly and crawl to me like a snake” I demand in a quiet, clear voice. “show me how low and unworthy you are.”
He struggles to me, it takes some effort for him to comply.
“Remove my shoes and socks” I say after some time; boy does.
There are huge spaces of silence. The boy has deeply fucked up, and he needs these spaces of time to “reflect” in it’s mistakes. The Silence serves to give boy space to think about it’s egregious errors, and to know that It is going to be receiving more pain and humiliation.
And so, after another long pause, “boy lies on its belly, its hands to the side, boy will lick Daddies feet - every inch of Daddies feet… and as boy does this, it realizes that its only source of meaning and value and definition come from the service it serves Daddy. boy is worthless and useless, but it can serve, and through this service it has some value.”
And as boy licked my feet “Daddy is not happy with the boy. Daddy has been very, very patient with the boy, but the boy has shown that it has no understanding of all that Daddy has done for the boy.” And then not a question so much as a statement, “Daddy really wonders why he should continue with boys training.”
A long, long pause and then, “get on your knees before me, and look me in the eyes, and explain…”
I am not sure if this will do any good, in many ways I am already gone... but, I will give my little amsterdam slave one time to try to explain why it seems to feel it is ok to waste my time the way it does.
End of Ch 1