Thirty Days of Hell to Get to Heaven: Day Two

Day Two

A weird noise roused me from my sleep. It was a beeping that I had never heard before. My back was cold, but I had to smile to myself because I was still holding tightly onto Brad. His upper body was a bit exposed and wriggled around as he stirred.

Brad rubbed his eyes and yawned. His kinky blonde hairs were sticking out from under his armpits as he stretched. His moppy, blonde hair was about as kinked up as his armpit hair.

He jerked suddenly, kicking and tossing the blankets off of himself. “Oh shit! I got to get to school. You gotta take me!” With amazing speed, he was out of my bed and in my bathroom, running the shower. Water drizzled from a distance. “Come on. We gotta shower.”

A smile curled on my lips. I was going to get to see the boy naked. It was exciting enough to get my ass out of bed and into the shower with him. However, the whole time, his back was to me. There was still a nice view of his bubble butt with a few blonde hairs on it, but I wanted to see the manhood. He wasn’t giving me that pleasure, though. I washed quickly, but took time to wash his back and butt. I had to close my eyes while I washed my hair, so he might have been visible while I did that. Cruel things of the world.

Even as we dried off, I tried to peek at Brad, but he was always a step ahead of me. As he put on a pair of boxers, he told me, “Today’s assignments are to pour out all the alcohol and paint nude. I’ll come over around four. I better see something painted and you nude. Maybe some paint on your body.”

My jaw dropped. “My alcohol collection isn’t cheep. I’m not pouring it out.”

“Then give it away.” After his shirt was on, he crossed his arms and gave me a stern look. He was very serious about getting rid of my supply.

I wanted to protest, but I had also agreed to be his slave. So, I finished getting ready quietly. “I have class ‘til three, so I won’t get too much painting done,” I finally broke the silence.

“That’s fine.”

As I drove him to school, we discussed normal stuff again. He had a strong love for a movie called Easy A. I hadn’t seen it, but the way he talked about it made me want to see it right away. We were about to talk about this piece of music he was playing in band when I pulled up to the school. He winked as he got out, leaving me with a “see you later.”

As I drove back to school, I thought about my assignments given to me by Brad for the day. It was a bit irritating that he wanted me to dump my alcohol. I’d spent a lot of money on it. Most of the bottles were less than full though. They were all kind of old and reminded me of something of the past that was not a great experience.

So, crazy enough, I dumped vodka, beers, whiskey, etc. What was this kid doing to me? There was a strange metaphor for recycling all those glass bottles of events and people of the past.

My classes were a desperation of me thinking of Brad and wondering what else he might be having me do. Thirty days were a lot. Perhaps he would get sexual in them. Even during drawing the nude portrait my mind was on wondering what Brad’s penis looked like. My shoulders slumped as I realized that he wasn’t planning on showing that to me during this time. The nude model had his eyes on me the whole time. I mean, I know he’s supposed to be still and all, but his eyes were too fixed on me.

Perhaps he would be a good lay. I bit my lip wondering as I noticed his penis tremble. As if sensing my dirty thoughts, Brad sent me a text (must have got my number from Drew).

No random sex partners while you are under my slavery. I could stop by your place at any time.

Oh shit. This boy had me trapped. I got up and left in the middle of my drawing. I wanted to get onto my task of nude painting. Me nude this time, though.

By the time Brad showed up at my apartment, I know I must have looked silly with purples and oranges all over my body. The painting itself was somewhat strange. Almost optimistic.

Brad didn’t say anything to me. He just stepped over to the painting and looked it over. His eye was very critical on it. Without a word, he nodded his approval at me.

His blue eyes bore into me again as he said, “this still needs a bit of work.”

Somehow, I got the feeling he was talking about me, not the painting. Crap.

He went into the bathroom and drew a bath for me. There were a lot of bubbles. He told me to get in when it was finished. The water was nice and warm. Very soothing.

As I relaxed, Brad told me to massage his feet. Boy, this guy loved foot attention. If I had to work my way up, I wouldn’t be upset. Somehow I felt like that wasn’t going to be the case though. Bubbles popped and Brad let out soft moans as his feet got rubbed. They didn’t smell like anything at all. He was a very clean boy.

During this time, he finally got to tell me about the piece he was playing in band. The passionate way he talked about it made me smile a little. Somewhere in my life, I lost my passion like that. Pain took over my art instead.

Before I was finished with my bath, he had to go to work. He told me he wouldn’t be able to stay again tonight, so he’d text me my assignments during the next day. I stayed in the tub. Some music sifted into the room through the open door. And then the door clicked shut. Brad was gone for the night.