Rumor quickly spread through the house, and out to the barn, about the task set forth for the newest daddy of the boy’s harem, and every single one of them assumed it was a death sentence. It was true, a few of the oldest members of the stable had, on occasion, seen the boy allow a man to rise up from the cellar–but in every case, they were little more than a shell. No one even knew what happened down there–on occasion, the house would reverberate with screams rising up from below, chilling the daddies to the bone, freezing them all in place, until they could shake off their mutual terror and return to the task of tending to the boy. So it was with great surprise that the first daddies to rise in the morning went into the kitchen to prepare breakfast, only to find Carson, filthy and covered in grime, leaning up against the cupboards, staring off into the middle distance and unresponsive–but there all the same. He’d gone down, and he’d returned.
He screamed, when someone tried to touch him, looking around, unsure of where he was, of who he was. He could barely speak, and when several daddies tried to ask him what he’d seen down there, his tongue knotted up and refused to answer. Whether it was because he simply couldn’t bear to describe it, or because the boy’s magic literally sealed the truth up in his mind, no one could know. A daddy told the boy of Carson’s return, and he seemed mildly surprised, but not incredibly. Carson had shown, as a man, incredible resilience–and even as a daddy, some of that spirit remained. But the boy knew something else, that merely witnessing the cellar would be enough to…convince Carson to cooperate with him. After all, even this was better than the cellar. Nearly anything, was better than the cellar. He ordered Carson be fed, but not cleaned–he was never to be cleaned, unless explicitly told to do so, and when the boy was finished eating, he would speak with him.
Carson was brought in, shaking and exhausted, barely able to stand or even speak. He fell to his knees in front of the boy on his sofa-throne, and kissed his toe, shuddering in thanks and gratitude at being allowed the chance to return at all. He understood now. He understood more than he’d ever wanted to believe. He wouldn’t fight any longer–he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to, if he could. Something in him had died down there, something indescribable, but the boy held power here–no one else. All he could be was a daddy, and the only way for a daddy to experience anything close to happiness, was through complete devotion and obedience.
“Bring my poor daddy Carson whiskey and a cigar–he needs to satisfy his vices,” the boy said.
“T-Thank you my boy, you’re too kind.”
“I know. Now–as for your assignment. I’ve decided that if I’m going to…expand into the city, as I’ve been trying to do, I’m going to have to find ways to…deal with the police, which don’t require me to leave home–because I hate having to leave home, as you know.”
“Yes boy, I know…”
“So you, Carson, will have two tasks. During the day and afternoon, you will be tasked as a worker whore. You will go around the city and find filthy, disgusting workers–old, young, fat, muscled–it won’t matter, so long as they’re in their gear, and you will…convince them to allow you to service them, as cumdump, fuckhole, and urinal. You have no objection to that, I am sure.”
“No boy, this daddy loves…he loves serving as all of those…those things…” Carson said. He was crying–why was he crying? He shouldn’t be crying, he didn’t want the boy to see tears. The other daddy had brought whiskey–he grabbed the bottle and glugged half of it down, his gut burning, but it was enough to kill the emotion which had begun to overwhelm him.
“Good. As for your second task–you are going to be a drunk. As evening comes, you will settle into a bar, and drink, and drink, and drink. You will convince the bartenders to give you a bottle of whiskey each night, in exchange for a blowjob. When you have finished, you will become belligerent, and attempt to force yourself on the men of the bar, until you get arrested. Once arrested, you will spend the night in the drunk tank of the local precinct, and in there, not only will you service the other drunks–for free–but also any guard and cop who comes in ear shot. And these cops, you will ensure that if they see any daddies, other than you, arrested, they will make sure they are released promptly, and without charges–do you understand? After all, the only daddy they will want to have pleasure them, will be you, do you understand your tasks?”
“Yes boy, I do. Thank you.”
“You will return home Sunday Wednesday and Friday mornings, to make deposits, and so I may be updated on your progress. Now, you should get going, Carson. And remember that guard last night? You will be the daddy meeting him, and collecting his forty dollars for me, understand?”
Carson nodded. He was exhausted, but he didn’t dare ask his boy for permission to rest. He was lucky enough already to even be above ground. “I won’t disappoint you, my boy.”
“I certainly hope not, or you know what will happen, where you will go, and what you will be.”
Carson nodded, and struggled upright. He took the whiskey bottle and lit a cigar, before heading out to his truck and getting inside. The tears he’d held back finally gushed forth, and he sobbed, violently, for a moment or two, before composing himself so he could get at least get a mile down the road before continuing to sob, and as he wept…he couldn’t decide why, exactly he was crying. Party, it was because he loved his boy so very, very much, and was thrilled to be given the chance to serve him in this way. But there was also the terror, and there would always be the terror, of what he had seen. He finished the bottle of whiskey and an entire cigar, and then got back on the road. He had a job to do, after all, and a new family he wouldn’t dare disappoint.
Bracken's Corner 