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Master Eams gave clear orders to his slave that he was allowed to touch his cock but not cum. He expected to see his slave near lose his mind with arousal over the next few days as the temptation built and his balls became heavy. What he didn’t expect was to find him rolling in his Master’s laundry, dirty jock-strap pressed to his nose, one hand furiously masturbating and dripping cum all over his crumpled work shirts.

So, instead of rewarding his slave for doing the laundry and staying chaste, the slave was bound in an intricate rope harness and forced to stand in a corner of the living room.

Master invited friends over to grill some steaks and watch a movie. The punishment in itself was not the bondage. It was being forced to stand there forbidden to serve, which is a slave’s truest nature. It goes beyond handling flatware and fetching things – there were four men in that kitchen with cocks that did not get pleasured.
The slave was ignored through-out dinner and disregarded through-out the film, except for when one of Master’s friends came over to give him a sip of water and tweak his cock. Master Eams had bound it in a forward-jutting position, a painful reminder of who really had control of those erections.

The slave had plenty time to think and regret his actions. When his friends left, Master Eams put the food away and went upstairs. The slave was left alone in the dark.
Two hours later, he came backstairs and told his slave to kneel. He was permitted to suck his master’s cock and for as a job well done, he was mercifully untied. The slave’s taut muscles tingled as the blood rushed to where they had been constricted and he groaned in relief.
Master Eams cupped his chin in strong hands, “Do not disappoint me again. If you feel you are about to lose self-control, come to me first and remove the temptation. That said, there is a paper plate for you in the fridge. Eat it, but you don’t have permission to heat it up. Also,clean the kitchen. Brush the grill slats, take out the trash, wash the dishes, refill the Brita pitcher, and then you may come up stairs to sleep at the foot of my bed.”

The slave bowed from his kneeling position to kiss Master Eams’s bare feet, “Yes Master, thank you Master”. Despite his sore legs he rushed to complete each task, relieved to have been forgiven for such a stupid lack of judgement and is determined to prove himself again.

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The art world is buzzing about the newest avant-garde art installation at the Homme Gallery. It’s called “The Male Orgasm” and it’s interactive. The exhibit is in its own room; only one patron may enter at a time. Undressing is optional, but critics say that being nude brings a deeper appreciation and understanding of the installation.

Kristoph never used to be one for the arts, but his boyfriend Saul wanted him to be more cultured, so they went along together. It was Saul that encouraged his hesitant lover to get in line and participate in this special installation. He did, and Kristoph left with a fantastic new outlook on the world of modern art.

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“Good lord…” Master Hensely gently manipulates the boy’s cock. “The poor thing.” The slave whimpers in pain and trembles under the touches. “I bet he’s got enough Viagra in his system for a week. You got Master Crux under control?”
I walk in from the other room, winding spare rope around my hands, “I got him tied up pretty good. Got one of those Viagras he loves so much down his throat and a big ol dildo vibrating up his ass. He’ll be a pretty mess by the time the police get here–holy shit! Look at that bruising.  Christ, he’ll be lucky if there isn’t permanent damage.”
Master Hensley wraps the slave in a blanket then picks him up in a princess carry, but he’s sobbing because his back is a mess and it hurts a great deal. “No …no I can’t leave the house he’ll punish me! Please no! Put me down!”
Master Hensley struggles to hold onto the lad and looks to me for help. “Calm yourself boy!”
I produce a rag and a small bottle of liquid from my utility belt and soak it. Once placed over the slave’s face, his body goes limp and heavy. He groans, but is otherwise silent. “That should do it, Master Hensley.”
“I’m most gracious. Now let’s get him out of here. His rehabilitator is waiting for our status.” He pauses to gaze lovingly at our latest rescue’s tear stained face, “It’s alright slave, it’s over now. We got you. Once you’ll recover, you’ll be placed with a good master who will take the best care of you.”

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He’d been such a good slave lately that I rewarded him on the anniversary of signing our contract. He couldn’t believe his eyes when I gave him his breakfast dish – fried honey ham pieces drizzled in maple syrup, eggs with bell pepper pieces with a squiggle of-ketchup, and fresh peach slices bathed in cream and only a little of my cum. Watching him eat was nearly as fun as giving it to him. I rarely give him any praise at all…but now he knows beyond a doubt I’m proud, and so he’ll work even harder not to disappoint me.

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takenoprisoner45:

fag in danger of being denutted

The photographer here is contorted4life over at DeviantArt. The specific photo is here. What’s most amazing is that this and the rest of his photographers are self-portraits – yes, you read that right – he ties himself up and then takes the photographs with timers. What’s even more interesting is that he’s straight and wants to have a career shooting the female form… but damn, he makes beautiful self-bondage shots.