istari

Mastering Alex

Chapter 9: A Tight Fit

"Welcome, sir," he said in his soft and youthful voice. "Master Robert is waiting for you."

He stood to one side and gestured us in. This was the first time he'd ever seen Alexander. His reaction was controlled, but obvious. Alex is very cute, very handsome actually, and even a gay man with no particular affinity for boys would naturally be attracted to him. Michael risked a little smile in Alexander's direction, then escorted us through the house toward Robert's study.

Alex instinctively walked a step or two behind me. I looked back at him and nodded my approval. That would be another rule for his growing list.

Robert was in his chair, just as I'd left him the day before. He rose slowly. He took my hand and welcomed me, momentarily ignoring Alexander. After sending Michael to get me a drink, he finally turned his attention to the twelve- year-old boy standing on his carpet. It had been nearly a year since they'd last seen each other.

"You're taller than I remember, boy," he said, studying him with his dark and masterful eyes.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Alex looked him in the eye as he said it, just as I'd instructed. I knew it was hard for him. I could see him trembling just slightly.

Robert gazed at me with an approving smile before turning to Alex once again. "Step closer, boy."

Alex turned his head briefly in my direction and I nodded. The boy stepped forward as Robert waited. I've mentioned that Robert is a large man, and Alex, though quite well grown for his age, was utterly dwarfed by him. Suddenly he seemed so young, so small. Truthfully I'd stopped thinking of him as a child many months ago, but now, as Robert towered over him, I saw him that way again. Some small part of me still wanted to stop, to drag him home and tuck him tightly into his bed, to protect him from this world he was entering, I suppose to protect him from himself.

I had to let it continue. I was sure he'd probably hate me for what we were going to do today, and in fact he did, but it was the kind of hate a master grows to enjoy, the fleeting type that burns quickly and fades away. The type I've since learned to coax from him whenever I wish. Had I taken him away from this, I knew he would have hated me for real, and forever.

"Stop there," I heard Robert order. His voice was stern and strong, but strangely quiet. All the more menacing for it. Alex stopped in his tracks.

Michael returned and handed me my drink before moving to stand behind his master. This time he did not give Alex a single glance. Robert, and Robert's wishes, was his sole focus.

Robert then returned to his chair and offered me another close by. Only Alex and Michael were standing now. I sat down facing my boy, just as Robert was. The afternoon sun was streaming in through the large windows behind us, but it was a soft, gentle light it cast upon the boy's slender frame. Alex was radiant and more beautiful than I'd ever remembered. Robert leaned forward and caught the boy's gaze.

"How old are you, Alexander?"

Of course Robert knew the answer, but hearing if from the boy's own mouth was important.

"I'm twelve, sir. I'll be thirteen in two months."

Robert glared at him. "Did I ask you how old you would be?"

Alex stood a little straighter. "No, sir, you didn't. I'm sorry, sir."

"Do not speak out of turn again."

This little scene was already getting me very hard. There was fear there in Alex' eyes, but also determination, and I could see the bulge in his pants was growing larger.

"Why are you here?" Robert asked coldly.

Alex shifted his eyes to me for just a second. He thought up his answer on the spot. "Sir, I am here so I can learn to be a good slave for my master."

I was very proud of him. I could see by Robert's bemused expression that he was impressed as well. But he was also ruthless. Just like I remembered him.

"You think you want to be a slave?"

Something in Robert's tone made Alex shiver. "Sir, yes, sir, that is what I want."

"You are a child," he said dismissively. "How can you possibly know what you want?"

"I know this, sir," Alex said, his voice wavering now. "I know this more than anything."

"Then you know nothing," Robert hissed coldly, sticking the knife in once more. "What do you want?"

"To be a slave, sir," the boy said again, getting close to tears now.

"To pretend you're a slave, you mean."

"No, sir," Alex replied. "To be a real slave. To do what I'm told. To have master teach me, and love me, and fuck me, and, and, hurt me, sir."

"So you like pain, do you?"

Alex never could have endured this verbal beating if he hadn't.

"Sir, I do."

Robert laughed at him, a cold mean laugh I thought, meant to belittle and humiliate. "Child," he said it like a curse, "you have no idea just how badly one person can hurt another, do you?"

Just a second of empty silence followed, but Robert laid into him viciously. "Answer me when I ask you a question, boy!"

Something turned in Alexander in that moment, something deep inside. I saw it in his eyes, a strength I honestly did not know he had. I loved him more than ever.

"I think I do have an idea, sir," he said strongly. "Some people hurt me before, sir, when I was little. They hurt me real bad. But that's not the same. That wasn't right, sir, because they hated me. Steve 3; my master 3; loves me. It's not the same. It's not."

His last words were almost a plea, and tears fell freely from his eyes.

"You're right, Alexander," Robert said, his voice suddenly gentle. "It is definitely not the same." He then sat back and turned to face me. His eyes were lively and filled with a softness and compassion I had rarely seen from him. "He's marvelous, Steven. Quite adorable, and quite intelligent. May I continue?"

I looked at Alexander, still in tears, but realized it was no longer his choice. Only mine.

"Absolutely."

"Alex," Robert said, his voice still stern, but a little more kindly now. "Get a tissue and wipe your eyes."

My sweet, beautiful boy did so, then bravely resumed his place. My heart swelled with pride.

"Tell him to strip," Robert said to me.

Alex took a deep breath. This was the moment. I looked at him with great affection. "Take your clothes off, Alex, and fold them on the chair."

"Yes, master."

I think that was the first time he truly and freely called me that. It was the first time I remembered it anyway. In fact we will both always remember everything about that day. His shirt came off first, then his shoes and his socks. He was adorably awkward as he struggled to get them off without sitting down. Next his belt, which he laid over the back of the chair. He skinned out his jeans and folded them carefully. Last he rolled his blue low-risers down his shapely legs. Alex was utterly beautiful in his nakedness, there in that golden afternoon. I wanted to take him in my arms and hug him, but our business was just beginning.

Alex returned again to his spot. He was hard, six inches of boyhood standing proud of his hairless groin.

"Turn round and let Robert see you," I ordered.

With a boy's unique grace he did so.

"Bend over, and grab your ankles."

Again Alex complied with a smooth, fluid motion, which brought the end of the shiny butt-plug into view. Robert nodded in satisfaction.

"How long has he had it in?"

"Since last night, give or take an hour or two."

"How are you feeling, Alexander?" Robert asked.

"I'm fine, sir," the boy replied, still bent over, looking at us now from between his own legs.

"Stand up. Hands behind your head," Robert said. "Good. Spread your feet. Wider. Wider. Good. Don't move."

Robert turned to me. "Positions are very important, for humility and punishment. You should create your own for him, eventually, but I will show you the basics, and he will learn them. Alex," he called sharply, "what are you doing right now?"

"I'm standing, sir."

"Correct. First Position is 'Stand'. Whenever your master tells you, this is what you will do. Thrust your chest out a little more. Raise your chin. Elbows back, you're already getting lazy."

Together Robert and I stood up and walked slowly around him. "This is a good general position," Robert explained. "It does not put too much stress on the muscles. You will use it often. Even though he is very young, you should be able to keep him in this position for several hours at a time."

Alex was shifting his weight slightly from leg to leg. Robert caught it instantly. "You're to stand still, boy." He placed his hands on either side of Alexander's hips to reinforce the discipline. "Spread your legs a little farther. There. Can you feel the balance?"

Alex nodded. "Yes, sir, that's much better."

"Keeping perfectly still is one of the hardest things for a slave to learn," Robert told him. "And you will learn. Michael, the tawse, please."

Michael immediately drew the slender whip from a side table and approached us respectfully. Alexander's eyes grew wide when he saw it. His cock was stiff as a nail.

"Michael, Master Steven and I need to speak privately. If young Alexander here moves a hair on his head, give his little butt a nice lashing. See that he learns."

"Yes, master."

Robert gestured me with his eyes and I followed him out of the study and up the stairs. "Michael has become a most excellent slave. We shall leave the rudiments of Alexander's instruction to him, for the moment. He has a gentle heart. I doubt we'll see many marks on the boy's behind."

He opened a door at the end of the hall. Clearly it was his supply room. The smell of leather and latex and metal was quite overpowering. There were whips, some of ghastly thickness, hanging on the walls, leather harnesses beside them. Piles of chains and manacles were scattered here and there. Several workbenches occupied the center of the room with various tools and unfinished pieces upon them. Robert smiled with unabashed pride as I leisurely toured the room, admiring his fine handiwork.

"Alex deserves the best," he said, "and he shall have it."

I smiled at him in return as I inspected one of the harnesses. It was fashioned of thick supple leather, heavy and sturdy and meant to take years and years of wear. Naturally I imagined Alex in a smaller version of it. It was clear Robert did not make all of these for himself.

"It is a tidy little side business, Steven, I tell you. Many of my associates are heavily into the scene. You'd be surprised how many judges and lawyers keep slaves. More than a few of my acquaintance have boys not much older than Alex. Street kids for the most part. We get together on occasion. I will see about an invitation for you. But now, down to business. You need to make some decisions before I can put anything together. Principally speaking, do want the boy in leather or iron?"

Robert proceeded to show me several samples. Leather collars against iron ones, leather ankle restraints against shackles, leather wrist cuffs against manacles. Everything was expertly crafted.

"Decisions, decisions," I hummed, as I imagined my almost thirteen-year-old boy bound in irons and chains, or tightly constrained in thick black leather. Robert offered a solution I could not resist.

"I can make a set of each for him. And of course you can always come back for more."

"You're much too generous."

He eyed me rather darkly. "These aren't gifts, Steven. They are tools. Tools for training that boy. I expect you to use them well and with care. There is a price."

"I thought there might be. Name it."

"That you bring him here, at least once a month, so that I may observe his progress."

"I think you'll do more than observe," I laughed.

"Oh, I'll leave the sex to you, where Alex is concerned. But I wouldn't mind giving him a good sound whipping now and again."

"Somehow I don't think Alex will mind much either."

"I'll bet he screams beautifully. It's a bit early yet to know for certain, but I do believe you have a very deep submissive on your hands."

"That worries me, Rob, it does. I don't want him to become some mindless, gutless little worm. He could, you know. He gives himself so freely, he always has."

"Naturally. He feels safe with you, he trusts you to do what's right for him. He needs that control in his life, all slaves do. That's how they are. You can't change him. But, I think, you are underestimating him. I see a boy who is very strong, and quite willful, even masterful, in his own way. Whose idea was this? Whose needs are being served here, yours or his? Did you make the decision?"

Of course my first reaction was to say yes, but then I realized it wasn't really that simple, and that, at least at some level, it was really Alex who was in charge of this whole crazy, wonderful adventure. Everything we had done up 'til now was exactly what he'd planned and wanted. Yes, he'd played me quite expertly so far, thank you.

Robert laughed good-naturedly at my rather dumbstruck expression. "Devious little shit, isn't he? I suggest you take a firmer hand with him from now on. He needs you to be his master. If you keep leaving openings for him, he will use you, not in a mean or spiteful way 3; some slaves are like that 3; but I don't believe Alex is one of those sorts. He worships you. He will be great, if you have the courage to truly be his master. Tighten the reigns and keep an eye on that boy."

"If I had some reigns it would help," I said, again eyeing the many varied harnesses and hoods as they hung from the wall.

"Not to fear. I will get his measurements before you go. I should have everything ready for him in a few days, but one thing cannot wait. We need to get that boy into a chastity belt today. Quite a disgusting display he was putting on downstairs. Erect and dripping in front a master he hardly knows, leaking his spunk all over my antique rug. That must stop."

"No arguments there," I said.

"Is he like that often?"

"Just all the time. I'm starting to think his body's just there to carry his dick around."

"Well, he is almost thirteen. Boys have no sense of self-control at that age. It will be interesting to see how he responds. Do you want to simply stop him masturbating, or prevent him from having erections entirely?"

"No erections, unless he has my permission."

"Excellent. I would have been very disappointed in you, had you been lenient with him. Strict chastity is essential for a well-adjusted slave. I believe I have just the thing."

He opened a drawer in a large cedar cabinet, and after several minutes searching took out several items, laying them upon the nearest workbench for my inspection. One was a leather jockstrap. It was small in size, perfect for Alexander's narrow waist. The belt was quite wide, nearly three inches, studded with silver rivets and a large buckle in back, complete with padlock. The leg straps were about an inch wide, as you would find on its cloth counterpart, and they attached to the belt and pouch with adjustable buckles and smaller locks of their own. The pouch itself had a circular opening for the cock and balls with a slender ass strap attached by a snap at the bottom. I also noted a single buckle at the top of the round opening and two more at opposite sides, designed to hold the chastity device in place.

That was, of course, the other item Robert had selected for me. It was made entirely of metal, aluminum by the looks of it, oval in shape from front to back, top to bottom, side to side. Perfectly symmetrical. It was about four inches long and three inches at its widest. It was formed from two roughly identical halves, joined by a thick hinge at the base. The back half had a hole about two inches in diameter for the genitals to slip through. Riveted to the back were also three heavy leather belt loops, one at the top and two at the sides, corresponding to the buckles on the jockstrap. It was shiny and smooth and quite medieval looking.

I'd never seen anything quite like it, although Robert quickly explained it was quite common, and just perfect for almost-teenaged boys who can't keep their hands away from their little sticks.

"The seed pod," he named it for me. "A fitting name, don't you think, and not just for the shape. Pick it up."

It was substantial, but not overly heavy.

"The aluminum gives it just enough weight to remind him he's wearing it, without causing any real discomfort. It's rust proof as well. Alex can shower in it, even piss in it." He then pointed out the small round hole at the bottom of the front half. "He'll leak his pre-cum through here as well. This is made for a small man, but Alex has a rather large cock for his age, and a nice set of balls. It should be a snug fit."

Robert then turned it over, so that I could see the inside to the two identical shells. The bottom half had two slender leather straps, each with a series of snaps running their length. These would be strapped over his dick, keeping it pressed downward against his balls. Inside the top half were welded two metal bars which curved slightly outward.

"They're the real genius of the pod," Robert explained. "They press on the penis constantly, but keep it from becoming fully erect. There's just no room inside for the penis to expand. The pod keeps the balls under a certain amount of pressure too. Not enough to be painful, but it's a very tight feeling."

"This is going to drive him nuts," I said with admiration and lust.

"Yes, with the plug in his ass, he'll be dripping constantly, but he won't be able to get hard, or even think about touching himself. Aside from the piss hole, there are no openings. You put it together like this."

Robert brought the two halves together. They fit perfectly. A hex bolt at the top locked the two pieces in place. There was also an opening above the bolt for a padlock. Altogether that would be five locks, plus the many buckles, if my count was correct. It all added up to complete and total control of Alexander's sex.

"You'll find it wears very well under clothing. He'll have a bigger bulge than most boys his age, but he's hung to begin with so no one should really notice. If they're looking that close, you should invite them over to play."

"Let's put it on him right now," I said eagerly.

My mentor shared my wicked smile, and we returned to the study with the jock and pod in hand.

Alex was still as we'd left him, standing with his legs spread and his hands behind his head. Michael greeted us with a respectful bow. I could see several red stripes on Alex' butt, evidence of his failure to remain still.

"How many lashes did you give him, Michael?" I asked. By the visible count it had been quite a few.

"Nine, sir, but I confess I was lenient."

Robert stared at him in amazement. There was great love and pride in his eyes. "I told you he was a gentle sort," he said privately to me. "And how many should the young man have received?" he asked his slave sternly.

"Closer to twenty, sir, but he's so young, sir."

"Then you shall receive double that amount as punishment, and keep your judgements of his age to yourself. He is Master Steven's slave, and that should be enough for you."

"Yes, master." Michael then turned to me. "I apologize, sir."

"Accepted," I replied as I examined the marks on Alexander's behind. I cupped his beautiful cheeks with my hands and immediately felt the heat coming off them. Normally a golden tan like the rest of him, they now had a warm pink glow. I heard him wince a little.

"Are you learning your lesson?" I asked him.

"Yes, sir." His voice was soft and trembling.

"Thank Michael for helping you."

Alex turned gracefully then bowed low at the waist, copying Michael's style almost exactly.

"Thank you, sir," he said, "for helping me to learn, and for the lash, when I needed it."

Robert's eyes lit up. "Oh, he is absolutely precious. Let's get him into his belt."

"Agreed. Alex, stand."

Alex resumed the position, noticeably more confident and controlled. Robert handed me the leather jock. My boy's eyes were soft and dreamy as he looked at it. I held it close to his nose, so he could smell the fine leather.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Don't get hard."

With that instruction I carefully brought his balls and then his four-inch cock through the round opening, touching them no more than was necessary to complete the task. Next I buckled the belt behind him and closed the first of the padlocks in place. I went to the leg straps next, pulling them under his firm round globes. They nestled perfectly where the backs of his thighs joined his ass. Two more clicks on either side and those locks were in place as well. I left the ass strap loose for the moment. It was time for the pod.

Alex nearly swooned when he saw it. Any reasonable five- year-old with a dick could have told you where it would go and what it would do.

"Oh, wow! Oh, shit," I heard him whisper. "You're really going to lock me in there."

I gave his face a gentle slap. "No talking."

With his young cock and balls already pulled through the opening in the pouch, it was easy to get them into the pod. He was starting to get stiff again, so I quickly yanked his cock down over his balls and snapped the twin straps in place, keeping it in position. I pulled on his balls a bit, working them down a little further. Alex let out a strange croaking moan, but was otherwise silent.

Everything was tucked neatly in place, and I closed the top half of the pod over my boy's genitals. With the hex wrench I screwed the thing together and fed the three belt loops through the buckles on the jock. This drew the pod upward a little bit and would keep it from moving freely.

The ass strap came next. I pulled it sharply and firmly between his legs, causing it to press against the plug in his butt. This coaxed another moan from this throat, this time deeper, almost the sound a man might make. The strap attached with a clasp to the belt in the back, and it to, of course, had a small padlock, which was soon in place.

The lock for the pod itself I'd saved for last.

"Hold out your hand," I said.

As always, the boy did as he was told. His hand was shaking, just a little. I dropped the last padlock into his palm.

"When I put this on, you will never be able to touch your dick again, not even to piss. Not ever. From now on only my hands will touch you there." I wrapped my fingers around the metal case that now enclosed his boyhood. "Who does this belong to?"

He looked at me with devotion as I clicked the lock in place. "It belongs to you." Alexander's knees suddenly went weak, and I had to hold him up for a few minutes. I rubbed my hands up and down his back, and whispered softly in his ear.

"You're a good boy, aren't you?"

"Yes, master." He trembled softly in my arms.

"Tell me."

"It's, it's a very strange feeling, sir. I, I want to get hard so bad," his voice cracked and squeaked under this newfound stress, "but I can't. Oh, man, I can't get hard!" His slender legs were twitching now as I held him. He clung to me desperately. I hugged him for a few minutes and stroked his hair, quickly dampening with sweat. Then it was time. Time he learned something about his new life.

"Alex. Stand!"

He snapped back to reality instantly and returned to his position. There was, for a moment, an almost sick look on his face, but it quickly faded.

"Get used to it, boy," Robert said, clapping him firmly on the shoulder. Strange, I'd hardly even noticed he was in the room until just now. "I suspect your master isn't going to let the mongoose out of its cage very often. Walk around a bit, see how it feels."

Alex moved slowly at first, unsure what to make of his new apparel, but it was a good fit and soon his gait became more natural. He was even getting used to the plug by now. It was an arousing sight, this beautiful twelve-year-old with his cock locked away and forever out of his reach, his tight little ass plugged. The leather looked great on him, accentuating his tanned skin. As I said, the belt was wide, nearly three inches, so it encased his waist almost entirely. The silver studs gave it a harsh, unforgiving appearance, as if it were something that might be used on an animal.

"How does it feel?" I asked him.

"Tight," the boy replied. "Tight 3; and good."

Robert instructed him to stop and gave strap and pod a brief inspection. "Any discomfort?"

"No, sir."

"You're not going to work loose, are you?"

Alex wiggled his hips to test it out. "I don't think so, sir."

Robert turned to me. "Keep an eye on it the next few days and see how it wears. If it starts to pinch, or get uncomfortable, give me a call and I'll make a few adjustments. Otherwise, I'd say it's a perfect fit."

Looking at Alexander I was forced to agree. He gave me a little smile. I could tell he was starting to get into the idea of not having boners every ten minutes. I drew him close and held him, running my hands over the leather at his waist. Alex sighed and pressed into me a little deeper.

"A nice pair, don't you think, Michael?" Robert asked.

"Yes, sir. They remind me of us, sir, when you first took me."

I watched as stern, masterful Robert took his slave into his arms and kissed him, tenderly and sweetly. Michael easily returned his master's affection. There was a gentle side to this man whom I'd known all my life, but it rarely showed. Alex and I both watched now, and the boy's eyes smiled brightly.

"Kissing is just for us," I told him, "when we're home. Something special. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Robert broke his embrace and gently pushed his slave away. His intelligent eyes were cold and meticulous when he turned them to us once again.

"It's nearly time for dinner. I'd be a poor host if I did not feed my guest, and his boy."

Alex blushed.

Robert gave Michael a sharp glance, and without a word the young man departed to prepare our meal.

"Go help Michael in the kitchen," I said sternly. Alex was gone in a flash. Michael paused by the door and gave him a little smile. The young man had a quiet grace and discipline about him that was very appealing. They way he stood, the way he walked, the way he addressed his master and me, even the way he addressed a junior slave like Alex. Everything was about respect, for others and himself. He was at once sincerely humble and sincerely proud. I noted that Alex had been watching him closely since we'd arrived, and was already beginning to model some of the older boy's behavior.

They did not speak a single word to one another, but disappeared into the kitchen to fix dinner for their masters.

Chapter 10: A Close Shave

I was still amazed at just how easy it had been. "Seems I just know what to say, and what to do."

"You've both found your natural role. Never be afraid of it. He isn't. There will be struggles, you know," he said. "Limits he must overcome, abuse you must help him conquer. Alex will look to you for that. He's chosen you to be his master. That is a great responsibility."

"How far should I go, Rob?"

"As far as you wish, Steven. You are his master. You decide what his limits are, not him. A good master works slowly. Break him a little more each day, then do it again, and again. When you come upon a wall, and I suspect he has many, you must get past it. Be relentless. Be ruthless. Being soft when he needs you to be cruel serves neither of you."

"But when does that become abuse? When do we cross that line?"

"Don't concern yourself with that. You may think the line is difficult to see, but, when you do approach it, it becomes very clear. Alex is a pure submissive, and a masochist. There is little he won't endure for you. There are limits and then there are limits. You will do things that may scare him, certainly you will do things that will hurt him, but these are things he wants, more desperately than you can ever know. He does have boundaries though, walls, as I said, that you must respect. Lines you can only cross together. When you find them, it is up to you to chart his course, but he must be ready and able to follow.

Ninety-nine times he will shout 'no', he will beg you to stop, but he won't mean it. That one time, when he does mean it, that is when you must give him room, then and only then let him decide. If he trusts you, he will let you take him beyond his limits. It's a profound trust. Don't abuse it."

"I could never. This is a bit frightening. We are walking on an edge, I feel it already."

"Yes. I can see it in his eyes. He is desperate. He needs to be dominated and humiliated, but he is afraid. His fear is very real, make no mistake, but there is nothing wrong or dangerous about fear in and of itself. Go slowly. Go safely. Have you chosen a safeword for him?"

I'd just read about that before bringing him here. "No," I said.

Robert nodded in understanding. "No wonder then you feel like you're walking on an edge. You have been. His safeword is for both of you, his protection and yours. Do not go another day without discussing this with him. I know a few associates who work without them. Dangerous and stupid. I am your friend, Steven, I will also be your confidant, and I will help in the boy's training, when you ask it of me. It is clear that Alex is a slave. He must be treated as a slave. His age, as far as that fact is concerned, is totally irrelevant to me. However, if I should discover that you are being careless with him, or working without the protections he deserves as a human being, I will take appropriate actions."

His voice was not menacing, his eyes were still warm toward me, all the more reason I knew it was not a threat, but a statement of fact.

"I would never hurt Alex, not like that."

"I know. But a master's power sometimes becomes addictive, and you do have a propensity for addictions, don't you?"

"I do."

"Then be aware of that. Being a master is about control, of your slave, and of yourself. Do not place one at the expense of the other."

"Which word should we choose?"

"Oh, that is entirely up to you. Something easy for him to remember, and something easy for him to say under stress. Something that suits him. I gave Michael 'willow'. You can have him choose it on his own, or you can decide for him."

"As soon as we're home."

"Excellent. Ah, it appears our two young slaves are almost ready for us."

I looked off into the dining room to see Alex carefully setting the table. Adjusting the wineglasses just right. Naked except for his chastity belt, he was completely adorable. Vulnerable and sexy all at once.

"I've been thinking I should shave his head," I said conversationally as I watched his graceful form.

Robert was quite impressed, and gave me that soft laugh of his. "I can see you're not going to need much help from me where his training is concerned. And you're right. A novice slave must have his head shaved. It's an old ritual, but a good one. The next step in his transformation. Death and rebirth, for some slaves that is really what it's all about. I think it's that way for Alex. He does have a past he needs to put behind him, once and for all. Kill a little piece of that today, and you can begin to set him free."

"Free him by enslaving him."

"Ironic isn't it? It was the same for Michael."

"Can we do it here?"

"Absolutely. There should be witnesses. It's an important moment for you both. We'll do it here in the study. I'll have Michael prepare everything while Alex serves us dinner."

Dinner was quite good, considering it came from the hands of an eighteen-year-old and a twelve-year-old. Robert had obviously taught Michael to cook. Alex was no stranger to kitchen duty either, but I realized this would be a new skill he would learn, and soon. Having a naked boy to cook and serve your meals was a very arousing thought.

Robert sent Michael off on the prescribed mission, leaving Alex to do the serving. He was unsure and nervous, but together we worked him through it. With our blessings he then made his own plate. At first he stood to eat, as was our rule at home. Robert had other plans.

"Slaves eat on the floor in this house, Steven," he said to me. "Please correct Alexander."

Alex looked up at me with wide eyes, afraid he'd done something terribly wrong.

"Not your fault, Alex," I said gently. "I should have asked our host before we started. On the floor, now," I said.

Alex immediately put his plate down on the hardwood, and sitting cross-legged, a real effort with the butt plug inside him, he went about feeding himself. I turned to Robert. "Please accept my apology for Alexander's behavior. The blame is entirely mine."

Michael returned shortly thereafter, fixed himself a plate with his master's tacit permission, and joined Alex on the floor. Watching them, I could see they were becoming friends. Alex had so few, and despite the difference in their age, I was glad to see it.

Watching Robert and Michael was also an education. Mikey had been his slave for four years now. Not yet fifteen years old when Robert took him off the streets, the skinny blond-haired boy had grown into a confident and well- adjusted young man. It amazed me how few words actually passed between them. Robert was not constantly giving orders. He did not need to. Michael knew his duties and performed them without question or hesitation.

Dinner over, the slaves quietly and efficiently cleared the table. I heard the customary rattle of dishes and glasses that told me Alex was filling our host's dishwasher.

"Probably shouldn't have let him touch the plates," I said morosely. "He's a bit of a whirlwind with that kind of stuff."

Robert laughed.

The boys returned and awaited our pleasure. I could see in his eyes that Alex knew something was coming, something important. Silently we led them back to the study. Michael had cleared the center of the room and rolled the antique Persian back, revealing a beautiful hardwood parquet. He'd moved a small table close at hand, and upon it there was an electric shaver, a straight razor, several soft towels and a bowl.

"Alex, take the bowl," I said, "and fill it with hot water."

Perhaps not entirely sure what was about to happen, Alex scurried off with the bowl and returned it full of steaming water to its place on the table. He looked at us expectantly. Robert began.

"Time for your next lesson. Kneel."

Alex looked to me for permission then gracefully lowered himself to his knees.

"Put your knees together, boy," Robert ordered. "Now your ankles. Your legs are to touch in this position. Very good. Now, straighten up. Eyes forward. Hands behind your back. Keep them there."

Michael handed his master a thin leather strap. With practiced speed and skill, Robert quickly bound Alex' hands behind him.

"What are you doing, Alexander?"

"I'm kneeling, sir."

"Correct. Position two is 'Kneel'. Remember."

"I will, sir."

Robert stood back. It was time. The electric shaver was already plugged in. I took it in my right hand and stood before my twelve-year-old slave.

"I'm going to shave your head now, Alex," I told him.

His reaction was a subtle mix of dread and excitement. I could tell by the motion in his hips that his cock was trying to erect itself.

"Be still."

"Yes, master."

The buzzing of the shaver filled the room. Alex' hair was fairly short to begin with, but the change needed to be made. I made the first pass right down the middle, cropping his chestnut brown to a barely visible stubble. The weight of this moment got to him quickly, and the first tears formed in his eyes. By the time I was finishing up around his ears, he was crying softly. Still his expression was one of devotion and bravery.

"Alright?" I whispered gently as I shut off the shaver.

He nodded. His tears continued to fall.

I wetted a towel with the warm water. Robert handed me the shaving gel. Soon it covered the boy's head. With great care I removed the remaining stubble with the straight razor. More water and a clean towel and the job was done. Through it all he'd stayed perfectly still for me. I hadn't left a nick or scratch to mar the boy's now perfectly shaven head.

Alex was still crying, and he pressed himself into my arms. I could tell he was desperate to hug me, but his bound hands prevented it. I ran my hands over his denuded scalp, amazed at how soft and pale the skin was, never touched by the sun. I would let him grow his hair back to a respectable length before school started again, but for the rest of the summer he would be bald, with only a light stubble to remind him he'd once had hair.

With Alex now a properly shaved and in his chastity belt, Robert and I decided it was time for him to service us. We stripped off our clothes. Robert was considerably larger than I, and Alex eyed his monstrous cock with lust and trepidation. We kept the boy on his knees, with his hands still tied behind his back.

Robert went first. He wasn't into boys necessarily, but the age of the mouth doesn't really matter where a good cocksucking is concerned. And Alex is very good. He devoured as much of him as his young throat could take. Little muffled grunts came from him. Without his hands, he had only his mouth to steady him on Robert's cock. The boy gagged a few times, but Robert never let up. Alex was soon slurping and sucking and getting his mouth well fucked. His eyes were glazed, focused only on the giant pole worming down his throat. After several very hot minutes, Robert growled and grabbed Alex' newly shaven head, thrusting violently in and out. He came in my boy's mouth, copiously. Without letting the boy wipe the spunk from his chin, I took Robert's place in front of him. Alex looked up at me with hungry eyes.

"Pleasure your master," I told him, and he went down on my cock with far more vigor than he'd shown Robert. This pleased me almost as much as his dancing well-trained tongue. As Alex sucked me, Robert picked up the tawse and gave the boy a gentle but continuous thrashing across his back, just enough to make him squirm and groan. I came in him without warning, but he took all of my seed and swallowed it greedily.

"Stand," I told him.

He struggled to his feet, showing the first signs of fatigue. We left his wrists tied behind him. Cum dripped from the corners of his mouth and onto his chin. Alex had a wild look in his eyes, one I'd grown accustomed to seeing over the last few years.

"You want to cum, don't you?"

He nodded emphatically. "Yes, master, I do, very much." He was shifting back and forth on his fast-growing feet, trying to get some pleasure, any pleasure, out of the metal device which encased his cock.

"Good. I'm going to like having you horny all the time."

Alex let out a frustrated whimper. I had him turn around and untied the leather strap that bound his wrists. As if on cue, Michael appeared with broom and dustpan. I nodded my approval and he handed them both to Alex, whose hair was still all over the hardwood floor of the study.

"Clean this up, then wash your face. Robert still needs to take your measurements."

Take them he did, with clinical, almost heartless efficiency, treating the boy more like he was a horse or cattle. The measuring tape went first around his forehead, then around his neck. Robert would call out the numbers to Michael who wrote them down. Then Alexander's chest, his arms, his wrists, his waist were all recorded. As if he were a piece of meat, his thighs were measured, then his ankles. His height standing. His height kneeling. Robert ordered him onto all fours and measured his height from the floor. Back on two feet, a series of rubber balls were placed in the boy's mouth until Robert found one that satisfied him.

"You don't still have any baby teeth, do you?"

"No, sir."

Robert handed the ball to Michael, who dutifully recorded its size.

"That's all I need for now," Robert said, patting the boy's behind. "Give me a few days. I'll deliver them when I'm finished."

We left Michael and Alex standing ignored while we talked about sports and politics. It was late in the evening when our conversation finally ended. Poor Alex was nearly asleep on his feet. I got him back into his clothes and Robert walked us to the door. He shook Alexander's hand.

"You're off to a good start, boy. I'll expect great things from you."

"I'll do my best, sir," he replied through a colossal yawn.

"I'll see to that, Alex," I said. "I'll see to that."

The boy crawled into the passenger seat and was asleep before we left the driveway.

Chapter 11: New Arrangements

Alex had dragged himself from the truck the night before. I stripped him on the front porch and sent him straight up to his room. I'd planned on using the ropes again, but he was already snoring softly by the time I got upstairs. It occurred to me we would definitely try sleep deprivation sooner or later, but not this night, not after so much so important had just happened. I pulled a blanket over him and left him to dream.

During the night I'd begun to imagine how I'd chart out our regular routine, especially over these next eight weeks before school started again. I wrote some ideas down and took some time to get a few things ready for the morning, before finally turning in myself. I was looking forward to implementing a strict regime for Alexander, and when morning came, so too did a strong resolve to see it through.

"Wake up," I called again, squeezing his shoulder.

He was still wrapped in his blankets and he blinked his eyes open reluctantly. He gave me that 'leave me alone I'm sleeping' look, but it wasn't going to work.

"Come on, Alex," I said a little more sternly. "We've got work to do today, and you've already broken one of your rules. You're supposed to be awake and waiting for me, remember?"

That stirred him a bit more, and he slowly got his feet onto the floor.

"Sorry, sir."

"That's not quite good enough. When you break a rule, you have to be punished. Over my knee, right now."

He was about to laugh, but the look on my face clammed him up quickly.

"I'm too big for that, aren't I?" he said half jokingly.

"Did I ask your opinion?"

He stood up straight and looked me in the eye. "No, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

In fact he was almost too big. I'd have to find a more permanent solution for administering spankings, but for this morning my lap would suffice. He squirmed around a little at first and we had to spend a few minutes getting him balanced. Then I brought my hand down onto his rear end. If he was expecting a light spanking, he was mistaken. I laid into him firmly. He shouted and bucked wildly, and with my free arm I held him down.

"Don't move," I told him as I landed another swat to his round globes. "Start counting. From now on, you'll get ten of these every morning, regardless. You get ten more today as punishment for breaking a rule. Let me hear you."

I spanked him again, quite a bit harder than the two before.

"Three," he said, his voice strong and sure, almost defiant. He ground his bound-up cock against my leg in a hopeless attempt at release.

By the time he said "Ten," he was humping my leg fiercely, and frustration filled his voice. I made sure my hand made contact with the end of the butt plug three or four times in a row, driving the thing a little deeper inside him. Each time that happened Alex' voice strained a full octave higher, and his count was barely a squeak.

By "Twenty," his voice was weak and wavering, and just starting to thicken with tears.

His cheeks were a warm, glowing pink when I put him back on his feet. He was panting, and his desperate need to cum was plain in his eyes. I pulled him close and hugged him, then kissed him deeply. Alex returned my affections frantically. I knew he wanted to get out of his belt, but he didn't ask.

"You're just dying to cum, aren't you?"

"I can't stop thinking about it," he said as he pressed his head against my chest. "All I wanna do is jerk off, but I can't."

"And you never will. Not while I'm your master."

Alex took in a sharp breath. "It's killing me, you know that."

"Don't be so dramatic. You'll live. Besides, that's the whole idea. I want you horny all the time. I want you wound up and bound up and ready to explode."

"Shit. That's just mean."

"Sadistic is a better word. Do you think your master is treating you unfairly?"

My boy gave me a devilish look. His eyes were smiling. "I didn't say that." He held his arms out. "Hold me again."

I would have held him all morning, but I did indeed have a lot for him to do today.

"Later. Time for you to go to the bathroom."

He followed me without question. When he saw what was waiting for him beside the sink, his eyes lit up. I'd had the enema equipment for a few years now. Back when he was nine, Alex had some problems with his bowels. Two weeks of flushing were necessary to get him going again. Now it was going to be a daily part of our lives.

"Take a piss."

He stood in front of the bowl, aiming up the little hole in the bottom of the metal pod that covered his dick.

"What are you doing?" I asked quietly.

"I'm pissin', like you said."

"Not like that, you're not. From now on you squat. Now turn around and get your little butt over the toilet."

It was humiliating for him, but he went for it, just as I knew he would.

"Drain that thing good. You won't go again until bedtime."

He looked up at me and let it loose. He had a good stream going that seemed to last forever. Amazing just how much a young bladder can hold when it has to.

"Stand."

Alex was on his feet and in position immediately.

"I'm going to clean you out every morning," I explained. "You'll never take a shit without having an enema first, understand?"

Dread and uncertainty crossed his face for the first time, but also that look of needful lust. He remembered his last encounter with the enema bag, and what it had done to his little nine-year-old cocklet back then. I could see it in his eyes.

"You won't be getting a boner this time. No erections. No orgasms. Just a good flushing. Bend over."

"Oh, wow."

Almost giddy, he bent at the waist and grabbed his ankles. I unlocked the ass strap on his belt and pulled his plug out, slowly as I'd done the day before. He whimpered quietly.

"Into the tub."

I made him hook everything up and start the water himself. The bag was filling nicely when I clamped the hose and grabbed the nozzle. "Hold your ankles."

Alex didn't hesitate. "Let me have it, sir," he said.

I had to laugh. "You're just too willing."

But I did let him have it. I shoved the nozzle in fast and hard. He gasped and groaned. Only the hose itself was sticking out of his butt now. The bag was full, and I released the clamp and kept the water flowing.

"Aahhh, damn, damn, oooohhhh," he sighed as the water began to fill his guts.

"Tell me when you think you're full."

It took a few moments of cooing and sighing before the boy told me in a small shaky voice, "I'm full, Steve."

That was always a sign the water needed to run for a few more seconds. I counted down in my head then clamped the hose. I turned off the water and gently removed the nozzle.

"Don't shit until I give you permission." With that I stuffed his plug back inside him and stood him up. His legs were already wobbly. Alexander's belly was distended and perfectly round.

"I look like I'm pregnant," he observed with a grin.

I gently pressed my hands to his abdomen, feeling the water slosh around inside. He groaned every time I pushed. Then the first cramp hit and he doubled over. I held him tightly and stroked his shaven head.

"Easy, Alex, easy. Just a few minutes. That's all you have to give me."

Another cramp in his bowels, but less strong than the first.

"Stand," I commanded.

He eyed me with hatred, but did what he was told.

"Stay there. Don't move."

I left him to get my morning coffee started. When I returned, he was shaking all over, but still standing with his hands behind his head and his legs spread wide. He was sweating and his face had gone pale.

"Had enough, Alex?"

"Yes, sir."

I had him squatting over the toilet a moment later. I reached beneath him and pulled on the plug.

"Hold it 'til I tell you."

"I don't know if I can."

"Try your best."

And he did. Bless his heart. I was prepared for the worst, but when the plug came out, my sweet brave Alex managed to hold everything in for just a few more seconds. Finally he burst, and with a loud cry of relief he crapped his young guts out. Then he just sat there on the toilet with a strange satisfied look on his face.

"Now, one more to clean you out."

Alex didn't pout or beg not to do it again. He just stood up and assumed his position once more in the tub. This time I tenderly rubbed the backs of my boy's thighs as he stood bent over taking the water from the hose. I didn't make him hold it very long, but as before I pressed against his belly to make sure I had him saturated.

Another trip to the toilet, and this time the water came out almost clear. I looked on as he wiped himself and had him bend over once more for inspection. Again the plug was inserted, in one quick push this time, making him jump a little.

"Doing ok?"

"Yep. It does feel better. Like there's more room for the plug in there now."

"That's the idea. Wash up everything and come down to breakfast. We've got something important to talk about. Should have done it last night, but you are just so cute when you're sleeping."

"I'm always cute," he replied.

"That you are."

Breakfast was a quiet affair. Alex was standing as usual, and being very quiet. Something was coming. When we finished I had him sit down. His list of rules was still on the table.

"Tell me the truth now, Alex. Are you ok with all this?"

"You know I am," he said, but behind his smile I saw there was more. He wouldn't have shared it on his own, so I pressed him.

"When you hold something back from me, it's the same thing as lying."

Alex' young eyes were earnest and thoughtful when he looked at me. "It's a very strong feeling, sir. Not just down here," he grazed his left hand over the metal pod that kept his genitals forever out of reach. "That's part of it, but, but yesterday, when I had to stand and kneel and be naked, and when Michael whipped me, and when you shaved my head, and then this morning 3; I feel, I don't know, all twisted around inside. It's like I'm becoming a different person."

"You are. You can never be just plain Alex again."

He nodded and his hazel eyes danced. "I know. I'm Alex the slave. Slave Alex. It does feel different. You were right. This is really big, a lot bigger than me. Real intense, you know, like I can't catch my breath."

I rubbed his shaven head. Already there was fine light- colored stubble starting to grow back. "Do you want to slow down a bit?" I asked.

"I don't think I could, even if I did want to. I sort of like being out of breath. I like the way it feels."

"Alright then. I'll decide how fast or how slow. And how far."

"OK. I trust you."

"I'm glad, but trust isn't going to be enough for us anymore," I said. "We need to give you a safeword."

"What's that?"

"It's a word you can use when it gets too hard, or when it hurts too much, or when you're really frightened. When you say it, we stop right away. Whatever we're doing, we stop. That's what a safeword is, a stop sign, for you and for me."

"So all I have to do is say it."

"That's right. But only that one word. You can beg me to stop. You can cry and scream. And you will do all of those things, but I won't stop unless I want to. That's my decision."

His eyes grew wide with that one. "Oh, man. Totally hot." He held his arms out theatrically. "Abuse me!"

I knew he was playing, but I took his hands into my own. "That is one thing I will never do. That's why your word is so important. Pick one you'd like, right now. I think you should choose it yourself."

Alex answered me with a question. "What kind of word should it be?"

I thought for a moment. "It should be something you can remember. Something you can say, even if you're crying or screaming. Something I won't mistake for something else. Maybe something that describes you."

One word to describe my Alex? Impossible, or so I thought.

He turned away from me, and I knew he was thinking. I gave him time, and we sat in silence. Five, ten, fifteen minutes went by, just the two us together, me gently caressing his shoulders. His vibrant eyes were wet and weeping when he finally looked at me.

"Butterfly," he whispered. "It's butterfly."

A beautiful word for a beautiful boy. "Why?" I asked.

He swallowed hard. His voice trembled as he spoke. "They start off all small and ugly and crawling around. Then they get big and beautiful and they fly. That's what's happening to me."

"Oh, Alex." I swept him into my arms and hugged him. "Your word is butterfly. Say it for me."

"Butterfly."

I wiped the tears from his eyes and then my own.

"I didn't mean to make you cry, sir," he said. "You shouldn't. Masters aren't supposed to cry."

"Who says? I love a sweet and beautiful boy, and he loves me. I think you're worth crying over."

We held each other again. His bare skin was soft and warm and silken. His behind was still sore from his morning discipline, and he winced almost imperceptibly when I touched him there. Simply feeling his warmth, this little man before me, lit a fire in my brain.

"Enough of this for now," I finally said. "We have a lot to do today. Go out to the garage and get my toolbox. We're going to make some changes to your room."

Alex, naked except for his chastity belt, quickly went off and returned a moment later lugging the large red box in both hands. He's a strong and muscular kid, but it was an old heavy-duty type and quite an effort for him.

"Follow me," I said, and he fell in line behind as we climbed the stairs.

Once we reached his room, he put the heavy box down with a metallic thud. We both took a look around, Alex with a certain nervous apprehension. It was a large, corner room, which had originally been mine growing up. It had the typical atmosphere of a boy on the verge of adolescence. Just a bit messy, but cleaner than most, I suppose. There were posters on every wall, of soccer stars, football stars, his favorite movies, and lately his favorite bands. Some of his own drawings and sketches were hanging around too, mostly just tacked or taped up, but a few of them I'd framed for him.

Alex is a budding artist, and some of his stuff is pretty cool, and very imaginative. He's done a few science fiction scenes for me, which hang in my office. The ones he kept on his own walls were somewhat dark and chaotic. As windows to this boy's troubled soul I often wondered what they might truly mean. Now I was beginning to see them a little more clearly.

His desk, in the corner between two windows, was cluttered with a variety of junk that was no doubt very important to him. A few model airplanes hung from the high ceiling. There was his dresser and nightstand, his bookshelves, and his large walk-in closet. There was his bed, with the ropes still tied to it.

He had a nice stereo system, a gift from me last year, but no television, no computer, and no telephone. He bugged me for them often, but they are too much a distraction for a boy, keeping him from homework and chores. Alex had learned to do without.

There was a notable lack of toys, but Alex was reaching that age where toys were being consigned to the attic, or the garbage, and not eagerly asked for. A few of his favorites remained scattered about, and the old stuffed dog he'd managed to keep with him since he was four. Mostly though it was a toyless room, his first step, every boy's first step, in proclaiming his manhood.

"Put on a t-shirt, a plain one," I instructed. "Then get your socks and shoes on."

Alex rummaged through his shirt drawer and found a dark blue one. He held it up to his chest for my approval.

"Good enough."

I watched him wiggle into it. It was an older one and fit him quite snuggly, defining his developing young muscles. It also left his chastity belt in full view. I'm sure he'd chosen it for that very reason. Shoes and socks came next, and he was in his uniform for the day. I took another look around. I'd thought this through from start to finish last night, each step. It was going to be a drastic change for him, but one I knew he'd accept.

"First, we're going to remove your door. From now on you have no privacy in this house."

That seemed to hit him sharply. A boy's room is his private sanctuary. I was taking that away forever. He looked up at me and bit his lip. Then with a sharp nod he bent down and opened the toolbox. With courageous pride he handed me a screwdriver.

We worked together to loosen the screws on the hinges. The door was off in less than a minute, just like that. Together we got it downstairs. He dragged it out to the old barn himself. I was already taking down the curtains and blinds from the windows when he returned.

"Take all the clothes out of your closet and hang them in the spare bedroom. Then empty your dresser."

We worked into the early afternoon, moving things around and cleaning things out. All of his clothes, as well as his dresser, were now in the room across the hall, which I would keep locked. The windows were left bare. The soft rugs that covered the old hardwood were rolled up and taken away. He himself boxed up the last of his toys, and took down his posters and his drawings. The model airplanes were carefully packed away in a box.

In the end we had a cold and barren room. I wasn't sure if I should have let him go so far. Every bit of his wonderful personality once expressed here was gone. All that was left was his bed, his desk and his chair. It left me very sad. I realized I'd started something here that I did not want to see continue. Alex stood in the middle, staring amazed and subdued at this sudden transformation of his once personal space. It was all the more powerful for being so swift and so complete, and so unexpected, and so much at his own hands.

"It's 3; a lot bigger than it was before," he observed quietly.

"It's too big," I replied. "And it isn't right. It isn't yours anymore, and it should be. Get out a few of your drawings and hang them up again."

Alex seemed confused and didn't move. Unlike him not to do what I said. I was mildly sickened by the look of this room, but Alex seemed right at home, and that gave me an uncomfortable feeling.

I pried open the box with his youthful artwork neatly packed inside and handed one to him. "I won't let you stop being a person, not for one single minute. I guess that'd be easy for you, but you're better than that."

He gave me an unsure smile and I saw his lips quiver for just an instant. "If this is hard for you, I'll help you deal with it, but I'm not just going to let you give up on yourself. That's letting them win. You know who I'm talking about."

Alex gazed up at me, and down again at the drawing I'd placed in his hands. Fate is a strange thing. My random selection had brought out one of his darkest and most disturbing creations, and one of my least favorites. In a way it was a self-portrait, and a very sad one. The boy was little more than a stick figure, but the creatures that surrounded him as he cowered near the bottom of the paper were very detailed. Sharp teeth, grasping claws, evil red eyes all trained on that shivering little child who really had no face or form of his own. My heart ached for that boy every time I saw it. My heart ached for him now.

"Maybe not that one," I suggested softly.

Alex studied it with moist eyes. "I was eleven when I did this. It doesn't mean what it used to. Not anymore. Not now." He took it and taped it back up, right over his bed. "It looks good there, don't you think?"

"If you can sleep with that over your head, that's fine with me."

We went through the others together and hung a few more. None of them were what I'd call cheerful, but none quite so terribly hopeless and anguished as the first. When we were done, his room looked a little less cold. It was still a stark contrast to what it had been. There was no color. That was the first thing that struck me. The walls were that dingy old-house white. The antique cast iron of his bed was black. His sheets and blankets in modern patterns of gray. All of his drawings and sketches were monochrome. There was the wood floor, a deep, almost red stain found nowhere else in the house, but it seemed to only add to the spartan landscape.

"What do you think?" I asked, with my arms around his shoulders.

"I like it," Alex answered. Then he broke away from me and walked over to his desk. "It needs one more thing." He took up his sketchpad and scribbled something quickly before tearing the sheet away and putting tape loops on the back. The boy was careful not to let me see. I followed him into the hallway in time to see him slap the paper on the wall to the right of the doorframe. In large black printed letters it simply read:

'Slave's Room'

"Now it's perfect," Alex said with twelve-year-old assuredness.

I had to admit it was a nice touch.