Tag: collared

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

temptingdominance:

2016.

“How is it possible?”
“What Sir?” he asks, eyebrow raised.
“Every since I put that collar on you, your body language has been completely different.”
“Different…?”
“More aloof, cocky. You’re walking like you got a big dick.”
He laughs, nearly bending over. “Sir you’re hilarious!”
“I’m serious! It’s seems to have given you a big boost of confidence.”
“Well, why shouldn’t it?” he retorts. “It’s beautiful, I look beautiful. People stare enviously at a boy with leather around his neck. It signifies everything mysterious and dangerous they could never have in their lives.They want to be me, and fuck me.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “When did you get so full of yourself?”
“I am not full of myself!” he huffs.
“You are, and I love it. My little egoist walks down the grocery store aisles like he’s modeling in Milan.”
“I do not!”
“You wore heels to the grocery store last week don’t lie!”
“Ok, maybe I did. But they looked fabulous with my outfit.”
“Ok, you’re right about that…”
“And my collar looks great with any outfit. Heels make the legs bulge, lift the ass, push out the chest. Why can’t a collar change how I carry myself?”

I smile. His logic is flawless, and very gay. “God, I love you,” I reply, cupping his cheeks and kissing him, right there on the sidewalk for everyone to see.

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Captions are fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

mastera6:

A collar is such a simple thing yet it states so much.

Eddy reached up and touched the leather for the seventh thousand time that day. It was his first time wearing it out of the house, and he just felt like a million dollars – polished, well-dressed, and handsome. Now that he was working a real, grown-up job, he could afford nice clothes and his Master had shown him the best places to shop – and the benefits of a tailor. His body was staring to show the work of all that time in the gym too, and Eddy felt like he was transforming. People glanced at his ass in public now; women’s eyes lingered on his face. He’d gone from a fat slob to a prime cut of tenderloin, and god, it felt great! Eddy dropped his hand. He had to remember to be humble and not be spoiled or narcissistic. He reveled in the benefits but the process was not his. This was his Master’s work.

His Master – bless him, for Eddy didn’t know how he did it – looked at the nasty piece of trash he used to be and saw how miserable he was. The transition to healthiness and fruitfulness had been brutal, and Eddy had wanted to quit and drown himself in pizza and porn so many times. If he hadn’t started falling for his Master and the reward of sex with him, then Eddy would have likely ran. But he didn’t. Looking back on it, Eddy realized what he wanted most of all wasn’t a smaller waistline, but love. He wanted to belong and be missed and be desired. His self-esteem was in such tatters, he couldn’t believe anyone would wish that upon him.

But his Master had. He’d taught Eddy so much that it was like going through college all over again. Four years of training, and they still weren’t done. Now though, it was more fun than ever. They had a bedroom just dedicated to kink and play, and his Master had perfected how to spank him in just the right way to make him cum without being touched…

Eddy shuddered. He hoped his Master fucked him when he got home from work tonight. He didn’t think he could crave dick until now – but god, his Master had such a strong and beautiful cock! It was a physical extension of his Master’s personality. He sighed dreamily and got on the train as it stopped in the station.

Eddy sat in a seat and absent-mindedly began to finger his collar again. The woman across the way eyed him. He smiled. He was his Master’s prize work, and he wanted everything to know it. Eddy was a success.

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Captions are fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Your slave boy was pulling the delicate laundry hanging to dry on the balcony. You were watching him though, the way the sun rays and shadows were playing off your boy’s nude body. The morning urge came out of hiding easily. You pinned him against the railing and took what you wanted from him, with your mouth and your cock. It doesn’t matter how humiliated he might have felt, being fucked with all those people milling about publicly below. It was up to him to be quiet and focus on pleasing his Master. It was your loud grunt when you came in him though that got some people to look up. You could feel your boy blush all over, but he kept his eyes ahead. It was not his job to question if his Master wanted the neighborhood to know he was owned slavemeat. When it was over, he thanked his Master for the sex, and continued on with the laundry, hole dripping until his Man plugged him.

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Text is fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Being collared will set you free. I could recall the sign word for word, as I saw it often hanging over the door of His dungeon. I pondered the phrase, initially thinking it was a contradiction. How could being owned and being collared result in any type of freedom? The more he trained me and sculpted me, emotionally breaking me down and working me back up to a stronger, more obedient boy, I began to see the genius in my Master.

I began to see, like the difference between the grass and the sky, that some men were naturally born to dominate and lead where was others were not. There was no situation my Master could not handle with grace and his own charm; there was nothing he couldn’t fix with a certain facial expression and corresponding body posture; there was no mystery in life he had not pondered and solved. I felt mentally weak and inferior to his brilliance, in awe of the clarity in which he saw the world. With his training I gained manners, then I learned to check my pride and my ego. Just because I was a male, it did not mean things were owed to me. My Master taught me this, and a great deal more things, and through pain and love, helped me gain a stronger foothold in life. A deeper, appreciation, so to speak, for things I could change and the things I had to accept as is.

One of those things, was that He would always be a superior and an alpha in my life, even though we were cut from the same a template of the same bone and muscles. In my early years, I found him aggravating and his opinions frustrating, but now there was only an odd sort of peace in being content with my status. I had an open window to his knowledge. I often felt deep reassurance in knowing he would always be there to keep me in check, to keep me on a straight path, and to discipline me when I had faulted. I could always ask him for advice. I pitied those who were left to discipline themselves.

I tore my eyes away from the handsome black and silver collar in his manicured, outstretched hand, and looked beyond it to my Master’s hopeful face. My silence had perplexed and worried him. I could read his expressions like an open book these days.

I cupped the soft leathery collar in my hands and knelt, offering it back up to him. My Master stepped forward – I could hear the creak of his leather pants – and took it out of my palms. I felt his fingers unhitch the silver chain around my neck – my training collar. My neck felt light without it. The buckle jingled as He handled it, then He wrapped the real collar around my neck. I bowed my head as it was fixed in place. Even after one second, it felt as if it had been there all my life.
“Lift your head,” my Master said.
“I did.”
He smiled, looking dazzling. “Look at that.” I was surprised to detect a bit of emotion in his voice.
I raised my hand and felt the material around my neck. I couldn’t wait to see it in a mirror.
“Thank you Sir,” I said, “Thank you for this fine gift, and for allowing me to serve under you.” My Master nodded, then to my surprise, he responded: “Thank you for being a fine pupil. I saw enormous potential in you, but I am surprised you gave me the honor of staying with me and allowing me to teach you for so long. There were so many times I was sure your machismo would get in the way and you would break. You have exceeded all my expectations.”
At that moment, my throat was so tight, I couldn’t say a word or even cry.
“Merry Christmas, boy,” He said.
I broke my form. I leapt to my feet and embraced him in a huge hug. To my relief, he crushed me back instead of chiding me for it. I was shocked to feel a sob go through him. “God, I love you,” he whispered in my ear, barely audible. I wanted to tell him the same words back, but “I love you” did not seem to convey enough the adoration I felt for him. Instead, I said, “I will always be yours.”

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Text is fictional. Cannot believe I forgot to post this yesterday. It had been sitting in drafts since November.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

damienxazure:

The spikes on the collar are sort of flashy, though.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty thing,” I say to the nude creature, loosening my tie. I turn to my friend Renard who has just come out of the bathroom. “I didn’t know you got a boy. When were you going to tell me?”
Renard lifts the corner of his lip, suppressing a chuckle as he rolls up his shirt sleeves. “He isn’t mine, he comes with the hotel.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”
“Quite so.” Renard walks over to his side of the table and the servant boy pulls out his chair. Renard sits. I stare at the beauty of his young body, of his bare cock and his chiseled abs. His collar is a bit flashy, but it fits the ornate style of the hotel. I’m so entranced by him that I almost don’t hear what Renard is saying. “…is a prestigious hotel. They offer services to guests that, ah, are off menu.”
“How have I not heard about this?” I gawk.
“It’s a secret,” he says smugly, sipping his water. “When you travel a lot for business, like I do, you hear things. Amazing things. I stay at this hotel frequently, and I don’t even have to ask now. He comes with the room.” Renard reaches up and tweaks the boy’s jaw. “Honestly I find myself coming here more and more, just for a taste of this. Come sit, Sebastian, before your eyes fall out of your head.”
I cough and remove my jacket. The boy glides over and takes it from me.
“Thank you,” I note. He folds it over his arm, before pulling out my chair. As I sit, he vanishes to go hang it up.
“God, he is stunning,” I say, watching his ass as he goes.
Renard smiles. “When I first saw him, I was unbelievably jetlagged after coming off a flight from Sydney. I wanted nothing more than to shower and sleep. I ended up fucking him for three hours. I didn’t get out of bed for two days.”
“You have all my envy, Renard.”
He gestures at me with his fork. “You are not much younger than me, Seb. Soon you too will enjoy these same pleasures. Shall we eat before it gets cold?”
“I concur,” I say, tearing my gaze away from the servant boy. “You know, it’s probably better I do not have a houseboy thus far, as I would do nothing else with my time and lose all my business.”
“Our sex drives are our greatest enemies, yes.”
We share a chuckle and start on our food. Of course, it is superb. As I sup, I notice the servant boy is standing too close to the table, watching us. After a couple bites of myfish, I lower my fork. I glance at the servant accusingly. “What are you doing standing there?”
The boy opens his mouth but Renard holds up his hand and cuts him off. “Ah, I forgot to mention the other thing. He’s waiting for you to give command.”
“Command for what?”
A sly grin appears on Renard’s foxy face. “To blow you under the table, of course.”
I pause, my bite of food halfway to my mouth. “You aren’t kidding are you?”
“I told you, dear Seb, the hospitality here is excellent.”
I chew my food carefully, trying to focus on something than all the blood rushing between my legs. “Well, boy,” I say, addressing him. “Get to it.”
“Yes sir, right away Sir.” He refills my water glass, then drops to his knees and shuffles under the table.

In a moment, there’s a hot velvety tongue laving my cock. I melt into the plush cushion of the chair, and feel as if I never want to move again. I chew a bit of Patagonian toothfish slowly, savoring the meaty flavor, while trying not to groan and thus choke. I swallow, then wash my palette with mineral water from Spain. I find myself leaning back and a sigh of contentment escapes my lips as I watch the servant boy work. I stroke his tawny hair lovingly and he rewards me with tight suction. I sigh again. There is no life I could love more than this.

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Text is fictional.

Collars and locks and tails, oh my!

Collars and locks and tails, oh my!

by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

aaronitron:

After I posted those pictures of me being collared, I have received a few messages from people who are curious about my relationships with Kevin and what all of this means. I thought it would be fun to write a post about it and illuminate why I’m collared and what that means, as well as who Kevin is in my life.

I’ll jump into the latter part of that first. Kevin is, first and foremost, my friend. We began as friends, our friendship is very close to me, and we will continue to be friends for a long time. Our friendship encompasses the entirety of our relationship, which is to say that him and I connect on a variety of levels. We both find value in strong intellect and the pursuit of knowledge and understanding, we have been there for each other emotionally through some difficult times in the last (almost) year, we both know how to enjoy live and have fun and thrive together in those moments, and we have similar sexual interests that compliment each other very well. These are all building blocks of a strong friendship, and that is what we have together. It is those building blocks that made me want to be collared by Kevin, knowing that I am lucky to have found someone in my life who connected with me so well, who would love me as fiercely as he does, and who would care for my heart like it was something very precious.

While that is why I decided to become collared by Kevin, that is not exactly what the collar represents. The collar is a symbol that Kevin is my Daddy, and I am his boy. This is a dynamic that touches on a number of those connections that I listed above. Most obvious, of course, is sex. Kevin has and will only ever top me, he is the dominant sexual partner in our relationship, and he calls the shots. I, of course, can ask to do things but when push comes to shove, it is Kevin tossing me around and not the other way around. A related factor to that is ownership. While Kevin and I have decided together that it is important for me to maintain my single life, and therefore when we are not together I am free to date and have sex with other people, when we are together I am very much his. I am not allowed to let someone touch me (e.g., grab my ass in a bar), that is a decision that Kevin gets to make, and in fact someone must ask his permission prior to doing so. There is one part of ownership that extends throughout my life, regardless of being with Kevin, and that is he is the only man who is allowed to breed me. That one has taken a lot of discussion, but eventually we did decide that it made sense in our relationship and was something that was important for our dynamic.

There is a third big piece to being collared, as Kevin and I have defined it, and it is a worship of masculinity and mentorship into manhood. As my title will tell you, I don’t see myself as a man yet. To me, manhood comes when a level of confidence is reached, when a person finds their footing in the world and life becomes something you take control of. Boys let life happen to them, and men make life happen. Boys are cocky, men are confident. Kevin has those qualities, and I do not. Part of our Daddy/boy dynamic is leading me into manhood, through hard conversations about life and how to make it mine, through tough workouts that build my body into what I want it to be, not what I’ve settled for, and through those discussions we have on a variety of topics that get my mind thinking and help me find what it is I believe at my core. (Admittedly, I’ve already done much of that and Kevin will be the first to admit, when we are hashing out an idea, I am nothing less than man.)

In the short time that I’ve know him, Kevin has reignited a drive for life that I have not felt in a very long time. It is because of Kevin that I started reading again, that I decided to stop smoking weed, he was there for me recently when my dad was in the hospital for 5 days and we were not sure if he was going to come out, he has inspired me to get back into my gym routine and I have never been more proud of what I see in the mirror… I could go on and on about how much he has done for me. He is exactly the kind of man I have wanted to have in my life, and the kind of man I want to be.

Plus, we have really hot and fun sex 😛

Another great post from another undiscovered non-fiction Tumblr. Show this to anyone who doesn’t understand collaring or the benefits it can have. Too often in our society we expect boys to just “be” men, without any emotional support or leaders to guide them to adulthood.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

You can only tame a feral slave so much. He was neglected by his parents, and was considered unmanageable by the foster care system. They were also scared of him, the things that turned him on and the pain he liked. You found him on the side of the road, skinny and filthy and offering an ass for meal. He just wanted a permanent home, somewhere he could live out his sexual fantasies safely and feel like he belonged. So you trained him and sculpted him, defined the lines, set rules for him. You made sure he was housebroken and didn’t horde food. You beat him cause he loved it, and introduced him to everything in your dungeon. You took him into your bed and collared him. And he was a better boy for it, a happier boy, less reactive and more malleable. More sated.

Yet, there is a limit to how much you can do for the wild ones. They will eventually feel the call of the wild, especially on those warm summer nights when the wind blows in past the curtains. The urge to roam, the urge to seek prey, the urge to seek other men, it calls to them. The collar helps, cause people know he’s owned. His RFID chip has your information on it. Sometimes you let him go, knowing he’ll be back by morning, filthy and reeking of sex and piss and alcohol. You scrub him, examine him, give him a swat, and give him his morning chores.

When he starts to come home in a police car, covered in scratches, bite marks, and wearing a muzzle, then it’s time to put the safety locks back on the windows. Of course, you know he’ll try it again, and when he does, you’ll catch him and drag him off to your dungeon. You’ll gag him and truss him up like a Christmas turkey. He’ll grunt at you, spitting mad, his eyes shooting daggers at you. You eye him with a sigh, then haul him up and strap him to the milking machine. An hour or so of penetration and low e-stim will help get most of the pent up frustration out of the system. By the end, he’ll be too drained to run off. You’ll cuddle him and put him to bed. He’ll be docile in the morning as a lamb.

You’ll tolerate it all summer. You do the best you can. You socialize him and run him, and let him have supervised sessions at the local dungeon. It’ll be over once fall comes. He’ll want to settle and hibernate, be happy with just your cock there. And you’ll give it to him, as often as he’ll take it, until spring comes and you can open the windows again.

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Text is fictional. Source is here, and used without his knowledge.