The moment I collapse into bed at night, I never want to get up again. Taking care of my Master as his houseboy and personal assistant is exhausting, and at that point in the evening I am always relieved that my duties for the day are over. Six days a week, I get up before him, I go to bed after him, and for those nine hours between the two I am content for about five minutes before I get lonely. He is my lover and my best friend; my boss and my owner. He nourishes me, fulfills me, drains me. Without him, I forget how to be a human. I get so caught up in his own happiness I often forgot how to feel my own.

But…I like it that way. As I curl up into my pillow, I bask in the satisfaction that he told me he loves me before passing out. I recall the compliments on the wine I selected for the equally complimented steak, his note on the shine to his boots, and his praise for getting rid of a particularly meddlesome client. I chide myself over not making enough carrots for dinner, and for not getting to the post office today, but there is tomorrow and endless days after where I can right all the wrongs from today.

I no longer care that I am in chastity as there is no time for myself – my time is his time. When he pushes aside hours or even minutes in his busy day to focus on draining me, filling me, bending me over and fucking my brains out while I drip on the floor, I am reminded exactly why I do this job – because I worship that perfect, rigid cock. The money is good, yeah but oh the sex! the special privilege of sucking his erection in the morning! The rare bliss of an orgasm! He gives that gift to no one but me. His balls and their cum are mine, and he knows not to let anyone else have them but me. I groan and adjust the position of my hips. I just had his cock between my lips but now I want it again, and my cock feels tight in its cage. My thighs will be sticky from leaks in the morning. 

Sometime I wish I could sleep snuggled up next to him and press my leaking cage against his butt, but my Master insists that I have some time alone. I think it’s kind of silly. All I do is think about him anyway. Eventually, my thoughts drift to tomorrow’s breakfast menu and my mind just gives up from fatigue. I’m slipping away now, my body made of lead….just so fucking’ tired. Sleep will be here any second so that I may rest and heal, but seriously – if he came in right at this moment to fuck me I would not protest one bit.

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Text is fictional.