Tag: Dom/sub

Gallery
by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

“Dear Sir, I want to be your sub because… well you’re fucking hot, and I have always thought I was the hottest blond bitch ever, especially with my sick tattoos.

And then I met you, Mr. Sex on Legs, this walking tribute to god-like masculinity and sexuality. I knew at that point, I would never be on your level, and my entire post-puberty existence has been based on striving so hard to be like how you are when you do nothing.
Everyone respects you, admires you, you make so many friends, you’ve networked your way to success… what are your secrets? I know I can learn a lot from you, because if not, I’ll be jealous of you my whole life. And I don’t want to be just a hot fuck …ok I really want that, I want you to fuck me six ways from Sunday and then all the way back, but I don’t want to be just another catch you toss back. You can offer me a lot. Improve me. Sculpt me. Teach me to be a man. I like being a boy, but I have to grow up sometime.

It’s not right that I still prefer Lucky Charms for breakfast and like to play kick-ball and my favorite TV show is The Angry Beavers. I’m scared to try new things. You like sushi and True Detective and sea kayaking, and I wanna try that stuff too. You can show me how to put on my big boy jockstraps; show me what it means to “fly” when you get a spanking; show me how denial can be really hot.

I feel like I’m not living up to the full potential of what I can do with my cock or my ass.

Please teach me. Educate me. Train me. Milk me. Humiliate me. Improve me. Keep me out of the pantry at 3 am. Make me to go the gym.
Make me into a new me.

Love,

Kenny

Kenny glanced at the notebook. He screwed up his perfect button nose. “No no no…” he tore it out and crumpled it. He tossed it over his shoulder into the pile and started over. Before the pen could touch paper again, Kenny heard a noise behind him. He looked over his shoulder and realized that the ball of paper had bounced off Julian’s shoe. He gulped. “Sorry, Jules, I’ll get that.” Kenny leaned over to snatch it, but Julian picked it up before he could.

“Working on your writing assignment?” Julian asked.
“Yeah – but – that’s trash, please don’t! Oh god don’t read that,” he begged.
Julian opened the paper ball and read it, while Kenny blushed and groaned on the floor. “I’m sorry, it’s terrible, so please stop reading.”
A smile began to widen on Julian’s face. “Kenny, this is amazing.”
“I know, I’m sorry I…wait, what?”
“This is adorable. Also, sexy as hell that you think this about me.” Julian held up the paper. “This is exactly what I wanted. An earnest, honest, essay about why you want me to be your Dom. I didn’t want some college level paper.

Kenny turned a furious shade of red. “Shit, I’m so embarassed”
“And we are going to fix that.”
Kenny blinked. “You’re accepting me?”
Julian gently folded the letter was if it were a precious document and tucked it into his shirt pocket. “Yes. You have passed the first step.”
Kenny set aside the notebook. He sprung up and wrapped his arms around his fuck-buddy turned boyfriend, and they shared a kiss. “Thank you, thank you so much.”
Julian ruffled his hair. “Alright, hottest blond bitch ever. First assignment is to clean up your paper mess. Second is to clean your room. Then…if you do a good job, maybe we talk contracts; and maybe we can practice standing, resting commands, and walking positions after dinner.“
“Ooo. I’d like that reward Sir. On it!”
Julian watched Kenny clean up the paper vigorously and then run off to tidy his room. Kenny had been a one night stand that had evolved into something much more. It was gonna be fun reigning him in.

________________________________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

“God that was off the hook!” Josh exclaimed for the sixtieth time that night.
“I’m so glad we got tickets,” Morgan agreed.
“Nice of you to come out with us, Morg, we don’t see you much anymore.”
“Sorry dudes, I’m just so busy with my job ‘n school ‘n all. I’ll try and make an effort to get out more.”
“I think we’re gonna try and scrap together a beach volleyball game if you want in on that,” Rob notes.
“Sounds great, sure,”
“Hey,” Rob speaks up again, “Why do you keep rubbing your neck? Did you get new ink or something?”
Morgan is glad no one can see him blush in the dark car. “Oh um, my boyfriend got me this silver necklace that I’ve been wearing a lot and it feels weird to not have it on. I didn’t want to lose it at the show.”
Rob makes a ‘huh’ noise.
“Ah,” says Josh, “Was wondering that too. Well, we’re here.”
“Awesome. Thanks for driving, Josh.”
“No problem. Bye Morgan, see you ‘around.”

Morgan exchanged farewells and fistbumps with his friends and then got out of the car. He looked fondly at the house in front of him, with its neat lawn and well kept gardens, then turned and waved the car off.

Morgan went inside and shut the door quietly. He turned on the overhead light and sat down on the landing to take off his shoes. As he worked the laces, Morgan noticed that the kitchen light was on. He smiled. Out of the humid summer air and into the cool place, Morgan was suddenly aware of how sweaty and gross his shirt was and so he peeled it off with great relief. The clicking of toenails announced their little French bulldog waddling into the room.
“Hey Porridge. Aw, you’re a sweet girl. Hello, did you miss me?” He gave the dog a few pets, amused at her excited snuffling.

After removing his shoes, Morgan stuffed his socks into his balled up shirt and left it on the landing. He stood up and reached for his collar on the table by the door. When his fingers touched the cool metal accents on the leather, he felt the nagging sense of loss he had carried all night melt away. It was satisfying to hold it in his hands again, to know he was close to returning to his proper place.

“Boy, are you home?” said the voice from the kitchen. Morgan felt an additional sense of peace at the low, velvety voice. He knew that the kitchen light had not been left on by accident.
“Yes Sir, I’m home.”
“Did you put your collar on yet?”
“No, Sir.”
“Bring it here, after you take off your shoes.”
“Yes sir.”

Morgan clutched it with both hands and strolled into the kitchen. He could see the scene before he even stepped foot in the dimly lit kitchen – his Master in his old, worn blue bathrobe, hunched over the kitchen table drinking tea out of a mug emblazoned with fading letters spelling out “Oingo Boingo”. He’d had that mug since he was a teenager, and Morgan lived in mild fear of dropping it.

In one swift motion, Morgan knelt at his Master’s feet and offered his collar with both hands up above his bowed head. Internally, he was begging for his Master to hurry up and just put it back on him already so he could feel right again. He heard the sound of the mug being set down on the table and the swish of the bathrobe fabric as Master Buford turned in his chair.

“Did you enjoy the concert?”
“Yes Master, thank you very much. I cannot …I cannot even put into words how incredible it was. The production, the sound, their stage presence! So much energy. Franz Ferdinand’s bass player is very talented.”
“I’m pleased to hear you enjoyed your reward.” Master Buford said, without a hint of displeasure. He yawned. Morgan tried hard not to smile at that yawn. 
He knew if he ever brought this up, he’d likely be spanked for it, but it didn’t make it any less true. The blogs and industry mags called Master Buford ‘the Bull of BDSM’ for his broad figure and gruff nature, but the fierce exterior hid a deeply sentimental man who hated to sleep alone. Buford loved to cuddle and hold his boy close in his thick arms as he slept. Bucroft scoffed at the old-fashioned idea of having your slave or sub sleep on a cot in a disused part of the house. God, did he love waking up horny and being able to have Morgan in arms length.
It wasn’t just a preference, it was engineering at this point. There’d be no sleep for Master Buford without his slave in his rightful place. Morgan loved knowing his Master had been waiting all night for his safe return.

The boy realized he’d been waiting for the familiar sensation of the soft leather and metal band to be strapped around the neck, but nothing happened. Instead a hand caressed his check. “Stand up. Go sit in the chair across from me. Get yourself a mug.”

The boy was confused and slightly alarmed. My collar! he thought. Still, he rose and found himself a less important mug and joined his Master at the table. It felt odd to be sitting across from him as an equal. To offset this, Morgan refilled his Master’s mug from the teapot before his own. He sipped at the hot liquid filling half his mug.
“Look at me, boy.”
Morgan raised his head. “Sir?” He didn’t understand the expression on Buford’s face. He seemed a tad perplexed, lost in thought.
“God, how bizarre,” Buford said after a long moment of reflection.

Morgan looked down at himself.
“What’s wrong Sir?”
Buford kept talking as if Morgan hadn’t said a thing. “It’s amazing to me how different you look without your collar. It frightens me a little to see you like this, to see you looking so …normal. I know we signed a little contract together, and you live here, but when I see you sitting there like a normal person, in your shorts and all, it scares me a great deal, because you could just be any normal person. You could decide you never want to put the collar back on again and walk away, and there isn’t a damn thing I could do. I would never again lay eyes on your tattooed form in all its naked beauty.”
Morgan stared at his beloved Master wide-eyed, feeling deeply privileged to be hearing his inner thoughts. “I would never–!”
“But you could,” he interrupted. “I mean, when I gave you permission to go to this concert tonight, you were just a normal guy hanging out with your friends. You went not as my boy, my sub, but as Morgan, a normal young man who has a job and a boyfriend like any other person. It’s bizarre to think there’s almost two of you.”
“I don’t – I don’t understand Sir, I’m …I’m just me.”
“Yes, you are you,” Master Buford agreed, sipping tea. “It’s like a magic spell. Don’t you agree there’s some magic in your collar? Like it’s enchanted or something?”
Morgan leaned over the table and put his hand on it. “Yes. I absolutely feel that. I miss it when it is apart from me. I feel that it connects me to you when you’re not here.”
“And if we broke the spell, then what? You’d be gone from me forever,” Master Buford said mournfully.
Morgan felt a bit caught off guard. Plus, the adrenaline from the concert had crashed, leaving him tired and blurry headed. “Sir, what inspired this? I am not leaving. I couldn’t wait to get back here and put the collar back on. Rob mentioned, in the car, why I kept rubbing my neck.”
“That…pleases me, a great deal actually. But I don’t understand why a boy of your age would choose this life over his friends.”

Morgan suppressed a yawn and took a big sip of tea. “I can have both, in proper doses. I like winning your attention and approval. The discipline and patience I’ve learned here has helped me so much in life. You’ve taught me how to respect other men, older men, and it’s improved my relationships with my teachers, bosses, even my father.”
Master Buford eyed Morgan over his cup. “Really? I did all of that?”
“Yes,” Morgan insisted, wondering if he’d fallen asleep and was dreaming this. “And you have more to teach me, I just know it.”

Master Buford was quiet. He then yawned so hard his eyes watered. “You flatter this old man. I think it’s time for bed.”
“You’re not o- …Yes sir,” Morgan replied, quickly drinking the rest of his tea. “I’m exhausted. I need a shower too.”
“Take one in the morning after I’ve fucked you.”
“Mnn yes Sir.”
Buford stood up, holding his boy’s collar. Morgan fixed his eyes on it as his Master walked toward him, polishing it on the hem of his bathrobe sleeve. He abated behind Morgan and strapped the collar around his boy’s thick neck. Morgan exhaled in relief. “I missed this so much.”
Buford cupped Morgan’s chin, then ran his hand down his boy’s neck, over the collar.
“Yes. It belongs here. A place for everything, and everything in its place. Good boy. Come on, it’s bed time. You can tell me more about the concert tomorrow and what reward you want to work toward next.”

Morgan nodded. He rinsed the empty pot and cups, carefully handling his Master’s mug with two hands until it was safe in the drainage rack. He then dried his hands on a towel. He detoured to the entryway to pick up his damp shirt bundle, then followed his Master upstairs, turning off the lights as he went. Porridge trailed behind, and the family of three went to bed.

_________________________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

chastepup:

slaveboy13:

I have a beautiful 4MB version of this GIF… But I bought a harness today and decided to celebrate my playing the piano.

Ahhhhh! This is adorable!

I was sitting on my sofa, reading a romance novel and drinking my tea, when I noticed it. I watched him quite intently, although I was afraid he would sense my eyes boring holes into him and stop. Although the playing happens in the front, his long fingers sweeping over the keys with hypnotic grace, I prefer to watch him from the back. My eyes were first attracted to the bunching of his muscles moving under his skin and the new harness he wears all the time. Then, my gaze slid own to his stiff back, pausing to admire his excellent posture, before resting on his butt. He has a cute butt. It’s one of my favorite parts of him. Well, all of him really. There isn’t a part of him that isn’t adorable – even his toes are frankly, adorable.

But that’s not what I noticed. What caught my attention to the point that I lost focus on my book was his tail. It was moving in sync with the metronome on the piano. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. I smiled, privately. I feel privileged to see my boy wrapped up so entirely in the music that’s playing. It seems to be a part of him; the muscles moving and bunching under his skin show striking similarity to the way the the hammers and actions move in waves under the wooden lid.

I also realize that I’ve never seen him play piano without some sort of gear on. After we have a session, like tonight, we cuddle, we shower, and then he gravitates toward the bench after supping. I wonder what he’s feeling. I wonder if this is just a way for him to unwind, or if he’s pouring love and passion into the music which is why it sounds so beautiful.

I feel lucky that he’s mine. I set my book aside and clutch my tea cup in my hands, sipping it patiently as I watch his tail bob back and forth. It never falls out of sync.

______________________________
Text is fictional. This is slaveboy13.

Gallery
by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Marcus pretended the act of unbuttoning his jeans was much more involved than it actually was. He was nervous though, eyes flicking up and down at the man watching him intently.

“Come on shy boy. Open up.”

Marcus chewed on his lower lip and oh so slowly unzipped his jeans and parted the flaps to show off his flaccid cock for his suitor. He knew what the man would say and he just wanted to savor the moment of the potential before the rejection, but the man was impatient today.

The man said a soft “yes, that’s it,” under his breath. Damien took a moment to admire the shy cock trying to curl back under its owner. A thick main vein ran down the topside of the shaft, no doubt there to pump it full of blood and double its size when hard. Damien reached for Marcus’s cock like he owned it, hefting it in his hand and testing the girth with his fingers. It wasn’t at all sexual, it was like being graded for its quality of meat.

“It’s too big isn’t it…?”
“What?” Damian tilted his head, “No, it’s fine. I can absolutely fit it into a chastity device. By this evening, if you desire. I can have you locked up and safe and you can sleep tonight knowing you have been properly put into your place, just like you always wanted.”

Marcus’s jaw dropped. “What? Really? You’re serious. No one else has said that before!”
The man barked out a laugh. “Amateurs. You did the right thing by coming to me. A lot of boys don’t even know why they’re so miserable and have to be locked up forcefully before the clarity comes. You were smart, and figured it out early. That deserves special recognition.”
“Cause – cause, a locked boy is a happy boy,” Marcus blurted out the slogan he’d seen on the internet.
“Yes,” the man exhaled, looking pleased. “What was your name, Marcus?”
He nods, eagerly. “Yes sir.”
“You are a breath of fresh air Marcus. So wonderful to see a boy seeking a man out, instead of the other way around.”

Marcus beamed, a bit pink in the cheeks. “Thank – thank you sir. I just …I just want to be happy. I’m not happy. I still masturbate way too much, people keep assuming I’m a top, and feel so lost at bars. I don’t know who is safe, who is bad. I just need, really, really need guidance, but it’s so distracting having my cock just flopping around in my pants.”
Damian ruffled his hair and rebuttoned Marcus’s pants. “There there, it’s alright. No need to get emotional now. I’m going to fix this. I’m going to get you locked up, and I’ll make sure you get milked when it’s good for you, not when society flashes a sexy image you.”
“God, thank you Sir, thank you so much. I need this so bad…”

“You need a superior man to guide you, I understand,” Damian said, patting the bulge in Marcus’s jeans. “Come over tonight at 7. I’ll make dinner, then we can get you cleaned and secure and you can spend the night in case you’re uncomfortable and need adjustments.”
“Is it really gonna be uncomfortable?”
“It shouldn’t be no. It should be snug, to keep your dick small and your hard-ons restricted but sometimes the ring is too tight or your balls tingle because of pinched nerves. Eager boys with bad training often get erections because chastity devices make their dick hard. It can be scary the first time you try to get hard and can’t. I want to be there to reassure you.”
Marcus nodded, wide eyes locked on Damian. “7 tonight, Sir?”
“Yes. I have to prepare your room. I’ll text you my address. Go home and wrap up whatever you need to do today. Oh, and no masturbating.”
“Yes sir, wouldn’t even think of it. Thank you very much, Master Damien.”

Marcus wanted to kneel and kiss his feet, but they weren’t in that kind of relationship yet. He gave a polite handshake and ran back to his car, trying to control his beating heart. It was really happening. No one took him seriously when he wanted to do the impossible – control his sex drive – but Marcus knew better. He knew that not all men are created equal, and that the road to contentment is embracing your place in the hierarchy. He’d known that since he first saw a man and wanted to be dominated by him. Damian was going to be his keyholder to happiness. He checked his watch three times on the way home…7 couldn’t come fast enough.

___________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

“As you can see, it’s entirely soft. You have about one minute to fix that, or I’m going to extend your chastity device punishment for another month. By now, you should become very horny just at the sight of another man’s cock as you haven’t had any release and our cocks are your only source of relief. Don’t disappoint me.”

________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

domconfessions:

“Shh! It’s done. You belong to me now. Accept it and have no regrets. I would have taken you regardless. It’s better that you submitted willingly.”

“You feel it, don’t you – my cum inside you. It’s in deep, becoming a part of you. Making you mine. You were a good boy and took it all. And it was a lot. Hold it in you. Show me how thankful you are. I know I hurt you but your ass was so soft and wet and tight that I couldn’t control myself. I’m only just beginning. I’m going to make you a shivering, moaning, with less control over your life than you ever thought you’d give up.”

Gallery
by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

captionstojerkby:

When I walk back up into the suite half an hour later, he’s still there, still bare, still waiting patiently. He might—he just might—have shifted slightly when he heard me in the doorway, but not enough that I could tell.

“I checked out the convention center," I say slowly, carefully, waiting to see how he responds. “I think I must have forgot my razor, though, so I’m going to run out and pick one up.” Nothing.

I shouldn’t have expected anything—a twitch of the ass, a plaintive little roll of the hips, an even more plaintive whimper or whine—but even though he’s better than that, past that, I’m still a bit surprised; I had him so close, for so long, before I went down for my first pass at the exhibition hall. I walk over to the bed, and there’s a moment of drawn out silence before I rest my hand on his ass; when I do, his skin’s hot, searing, even in the over-conditioned hotel air. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t move, so I move my hand, sliding my fingers across his skin and into his dark cleft. The very tip of my middle finger just grazes his hole, and I can feel the tight ring of muscle twitch against it; he can’t help that, though, and the rest of him remains impassive—un-passioned, but long-suffering. When I talk again, it’s not at all like I’m just one quick shove away from fingering him. “Do you need anything while I’m out?”

"No,” he says. “I’m fine.”

So I push my finger in, hard. There’s no lube, of course, and I can feel his ass catch at my finger and then clench at it in protest as I slide in. I can feel his body shake, and this time, my voice isn’t measured, guarded; there’s a smile in it. “Are you absolutely sure you don’t need anything?” I twist my finger in further, turn it to press unrelentingly up against the hard knot of his prostate. “Anything at all you really, really need?” He drops his head just as quickly as the clear spurt of precum drops down from his dick onto the bedspread. 

“Yes,” he chokes out. “I need"—and he says this through gritted teeth, and my heart and my dick both swell at the thought of having won—"socks. Black. One pair.”

I pull my finger out, swat his ass. Part of me wanted to hear him break, hear him answer with “a long, hard dicking, sir.” That’s the part me that’s ready to go again even after the check-in blowjob he gave me, the part that wants so badly to be buried immediately inside him, the part that’s anxious to be able to say that he’s now given it up in Pittsburgh, too. But the bigger part of me—well, bigger in terms of judgement and magnanimity; the other part is currently clocking in at a solid 8” and straining across my thigh—is so fucking proud of him, too. 

Gallery
by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

When I explain it to people, they tend to get a confused expression on their faces. A dominant bottom? Isn’t that a contradiction? How can that exist? Then they meet my boyfriend and suddenly they get it. Even in khaki shorts and a tight knit tee shirt across his firm pecs, he attracts your eye and your attention. He’s impossible to ignore, even when not saying a word, he has this incredible aura and this steel glint to his eye that makes you wonder what he’s going to do next. It’s his confidence, his swagger. 

The boy is going to go places, but there is only one place he’s cumming – on me. Being gay to him is a non-issue. He easily accepted it, as if it was natural to him as breathing. His Type A personality doesn’t accept that he has to sit around until some guy gifts him with his cock. He finds it juvenile. When he wants sex, he needs to be in control the entire time, from actively pursuing a partner to the actual penetration. He quickly deduced that sticking his dick into something was not nearly as pleasurable as riding one. Big cocks, small cocks, curved cocks, he’s taken them all. Unfortunately, most of those cocks were attached to confused men who didn’t know how to react when their “submissive” bottom began to growl and take charge.

I, on the other, love just staying still and relaxing during sex. I love watching my partner fuck himself me because I know he’s in heat. I know he’s crazy, near foaming at the mouth, with the need to be penetrated and my cock is better than any dildo he can buy. It’s hot, it’s damp, it throbs and twitches. It fills him up and soothes the ache. After we had sex a few times, he simply told me, “You know I’m keeping you right?” I couldn’t find a reason to disagree.

Sex is usually triggered by two words: “I’m horny”. He purrs like a kitten and rubs my shoulders. I can rarely ever resist. I obediently climb the stairs and follow him to the bedroom, and there I wait for him to undress me. He pushes me to the bed licks me all over. Soon he’s grinding against me, testing my patience until I’m practically begging. God, I love watching him. He’s poetry in motion. All I have to do is stay still and he devours me. He mounts me and takes me into his body, rocking back and forth on my cock as he pleases. Often he seems he slips into a trance from how good it feels. Normally both of his hands are pressed flat against my chest like a panther that’s pinned his prey. I keep my hands busy, caressing him, tugging on his hair, encouraging him to use me as he desires. My cock is his.

The sex with him is incredible. I would let him lock my cock up if he wanted to, I just can’t resist. I can’t wait until we don’t have to use condoms anymore.

________________________________________________________
Text is fictional. Source unknown.

PSA: I am selling some gay sex stories to offset some of my bills; if you’d care to take a look I’d appreciate it.

Gallery
by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

“Mmm good morning, boy.”
“Good morning, Justin. Fuck me?”
“Well, well, direct this morning aren’t we? My poor boy, must be so backed up.” I reach out and cup the metal between his legs. He instinctively pushes himself into my hand although it does nothing.
“I’m. sooo. horny. I hate this, Justin, how much longer are your relatives going to be here?”
“Five more days,” I say casually.
He groans.
“Hush your mouth you spoiled thing. You know this is for the best. I can’t use a chastity cage because you could still jack yourself off with it, plus it would leave a distinct shape. I don’t want my relatives to get curious. Besides, as I suspected, I am too busy with them to keep track of controlling your masturbation and erections so this is the best way. Keeps your hands off your cock until I can dedicate more time to managing you. It’s discreet and keeps you obedient.”
“And horny,” he sighs.
“Yes, I do love you horny, making you sit through boring dinners when all you can think about is my cock.”
“I fucking love your cock, Justin.”
I smile. “I know you do. Hm, we got a little time before we have to meet the family. Get into position. I think I’m going to help take a little pressure off those balls.”
“Oh thank god!”
“I want to see plenty of pre-cum drip out, no matter how tight your cock swells in there.”
He nodded eagerly and put his ass into the air, wiggling impatiently until I can get us both lubed up. I hadn’t told him I was thinking of leaving it on for a week after my relatives left, with cleanings of course. He’d been getting pushy lately and I need a way to drive home the message that I own his cock and its at the mercy of my good will. Of course, he could say ‘no’ at any time but he won’t. He thrives on being locked up and knows it. Anything less interesting than this would bore him.

_____________________________
Text is fictional. Watermarked.