For sale, one slave, used and a bit loose. Teeth age est 27-32 years. Obedient and housebroken. Should be muzzled in public and kept away from small children. Must be only slave in house, as slave is prone to fits of jealous rage. For an experienced master with a background in whipping and/or flogging. Inquire at Booth 6.
I put the pot over my head and scream. I’m a totally 100% screwed. Wednesdays are chili nights, not fish nights! How could I think it was Thursday? Ever since I moved in with my Dom for the summer between college semesters, I had totally lost myself in low-key subspace these past few days. Yesterday, we had eaten out for dinner which probably contributed to my confusion.
Somehow, this mistake eluded me through-out the entirety of my morning chores. I even put the fish out to defrost, then prepared Sir’s lunch and put in the refrigerator like normal. It was only when I got halfway through making my own PBJ sandwich that my brain kindly informed me that Thursdays are when his Sir has lunch with his father. Today, He was at the gym and would be home any moment now and discover that house didn’t smell of chili. My Master didn’t own a slow cooker so it had to be done in same pot which was, at this time, on my head and full of air.Oh shit. What do I do? Even if I put the chili on now, it won’t be done in time for dinner. I lost the entire morning. Shit shit shit. I’m going to punished for this for sure!
[Kept Boy Problems #4 – Too focused on role as sub, forgot what day it was. That’s a paddlin’.]
_________________________________________________________Original picture is from DeviantArt here, but reblogged from buzzerguy via fazing.
There was a part of me that wanted to cry. I had let my Sir down. I had failed in my expected duties. I had one job. One job. That was to follow his schedule. And I failed.
I found myself yelping when I heard the door unlock and I knew. I just knew I was totally fucked tonight. But when Sir came into the kitchen, his eyes heavy and his body looking weary, I got a sense that something was very wrong.
“Sir?” I asked. “How was your day, Sir?”
“Oh, Aiden. Hi. Didn’t see you there.”
I froze again. Sir didn’t address me by my name unless something was wrong. He opened the fridge, looking around for something. Again, this was weird. He closed the fridge and looked at me; he wasn’t stern like himself. He looked bewildered and somewhat confused.
“What’s for dinner?” He asked me. I blinked in bewilderment! Sir was very OCD about his schedule.
“Sir are you alright?” I asked, coming to his side quickly.
”Did you have a good workout, Sir?”“Haha, no. Had to skip the gym and stick around the office. Budget cuts and bullshit. That stuff. Fuck I’m tired.”
“I’m sorry, Sir. I don’t have the chili ready, and I’ll take whatever punishments you deem fit, Sir.” I apologized. Now I felt really bad.
“Oh cut the crap, Aiden. Maybe I’ll punish you tomorrow. But right now….. Just sit with me. That’s what I need right now.”
“Yessir.” I followed.
“Actually grab the wine and some glasses. I could use that to.” He pointed back to the kitchen as he went into the living room. I obeyed, still concerned but eager to help get Sir back to normal. We eventually sat down on the couch, and he turned on the TV, pulling me close to him. He points to the bottle and I pour us both glasses. Normally I don’t drink without his permission, but he told me to drink and not wait for him this time. It must have been a really horrible day at the office! Sir is not…. usually this intimate. At least not around dinner time.
“Are you alright, Sir?” I asked. “Is there anything I can do for you, Sir?”
“Don’t call me Sir tonight. Just….. sit with me.” He ordered.
“Yes Si- Uh, certainly.” I felt so weird not calling by his title! But I leaned in, and Sir put his arm around me, fingers stroking my bare chest. He pulled me close against his torso, tightly. Firmly. He wasn’t like this, not until after prepping me for sleep- when I had earned the privilege of sleeping in his bed, and not usually in my cage. We ended up watching a multitude of sitcoms, some comedy shows, the news, and always I kept watching, waiting, wondering if Sir would be okay. After downing a couple glasses of wine, his hand lowered, caressing my stomach, as well as the waistband of my underwear.
“Would you like a massage, s…. would you like a massage?”
“No.” He sighed, but turned to face me. “You always put my needs before your own, Aiden.”
I stammered out “Well, you’re my Sir. It’s what I do. I like to make you happy, Sir.”
He gripped me tighter. “Were you worried I was going to be angry?”
“Very much, Sir.” I responded. “I know you love your chili, Sir.”
“Fuck the chili.” Sir leaned his head against mine. “I don’t care that you weren’t ready tonight.”
“Um, really Sir?”
“I work with a bunch of bastards.” Sir said. “A bunch of snakes. Backstabbing motherfuckers, every single one of them. They’re only alive because the government frowns on me throttling them.”
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“But you know what?” Sir asked, our eyes meeting. “That shit doesn’t bother me. As long as I got my Boy, and he actually gives a damn about my needs. Even when I treat you like garbage, making you lick my boots and suck down my cum.”
“Those are not punishments, Sir.” I said, unable to conceal my smile.
“I know. But…. I just want you to know I appreciate you, Boy.” Now he seemed like his old self, which brought a flutter back to my heart.
“Thank you, Sir.” I embraced him.
“Okay boy. Unzip my pants and suck my cock. Lord knows I could use your throat right now.” He released me and leaned his head back on the couch cushions.
“You got it, Sir!”
Baitnaite, I am speechless. This is such an unexpected but great ending. Let’s do this again sometime *____*
I put the pot over my head and scream. I’m a totally 100% screwed. Wednesdays are chili nights, not fish nights! How could I think it was Thursday? Ever since I moved in with my Dom for the summer between college semesters, I had totally lost myself in low-key subspace these past few days. Yesterday, we had eaten out for dinner which probably contributed to my confusion.
Somehow, this mistake eluded me through-out the entirety of my morning chores. I even put the fish out to defrost, then prepared Sir’s lunch and put in the refrigerator like normal. It was only when I got halfway through making my own PBJ sandwich that my brain kindly informed me that Thursdays are when his Sir has lunch with his father. Today, He was at the gym and would be home any moment now and discover that house didn’t smell of chili. My Master didn’t own a slow cooker so it had to be done in same pot which was, at this time, on my head and full of air.
Oh shit. What do I do? Even if I put the chili on now, it won’t be done in time for dinner. I lost the entire morning. Shit shit shit. I’m going to punished for this for sure!
[Kept Boy Problems #4 – Too focused on role as sub, forgot what day it was. That’s a paddlin’.]
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Original picture is from DeviantArt here, but reblogged from buzzerguy via fazing.
SEQUEL IS HERE.
[Sequel to Egg Gets Rehomed]
Egg paused between rows of apple trees and gazed out to where they vanished into the misty horizon. The first efforts of frost on the grass crunched under his leather slippers. The sun was barely past the horizon, the hour early. Egg took a deep breath of the crisp, fruit-scented air and exhaled through his nose. For a moment, he was verklempt that this ethereal panorama of nature was part of his new life and the vision went blurry at the corners of his eyes.
It seemed an entire planet away from his childhood in the filthiest part of Rockham City. It was if his orphan years of hunger and loneliness from 7 to 18 simply never existed at all, or maybe this orchard was in-fact a dream he was experiencing during a night’s sleep in the church basement where he used to spend his winters. Instead of ugly water that coursed through docks where he forewent schooling for coin and scrap-metal hunting, Egg only saw a river of endless grass flanked by apple trees instead of boats.
He pushed his palm into his eyes to clear the tears. Egg did not regret selling himself, although his first master was harsh and hurtful. He recalled the morning he awoke to discover he’d been sold while he had slept the night prior. Initially he was terrified, as rough people have rougher friends. Master Kinbridge was a fine Master though, firm but patient.
There had been some hard days in the training room and bedroom, and more than a few smacked palms left sore due to burnt tea, yes, but overall…Egg was proud to serve under him. Master Kinbridge had taken great care of his sensitive skin and stomach, avoiding materials with nickel and modifying his diet to remove rich foods foreign to a guttersnipe’s gut flora.
This morning’s breakfast was set to be apple porridge with maple sugar from the north. Egg had been waiting for weeks for the apples to be ready for harvest, watching the farm buzz with workers and horses. Restauranteurs and merchants had been pestering his Master for the dates when the barrels would begin arrive. It would be any day now, for sure.
Egg padded up to a random tree and let his eyes rove through the branches, admiring the red orbs and their yellow-ish green tones. Real fruit. Fresh fruit, as far as the eye could see. Well kept property, just like himself. Egg realized if he dawdled any longer, there wouldn’t be enough time to simmer breakfast before Master Kinbridge got out of the bath. He found two lone apples pulling heavy and low on a near bare branch. With a couple flicks of the wrist, the branch was relieved of its burden and sprang back up into the treetops.
The young man held apples to his nose to draw in their scents and smiled as his fingertips lingered on his slim collar. Autumn was here. No longer did he dread another winter. Autumn was here, and he was home.
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[Pictures came from Flickr users. Orchard photo source is here; apple photo source is here.]
“Hello =D”
“Er…hello…Where am I?”
“You’re in the Waiting Room,” the one on the right answered in the same perky voice.
“The Waiting Room? Woah, you have wings? Does that mean you’re -?”
“Angels? Yep. I’m Michael, that’s Daniel behind me. He’s a trainee.”
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck, have I …am dead. I’ve died haven’t I?”
“Yep. They just lost you on operating table. Pretty messy down there, there’s blood everywhere. The Barrier Between is pretty thin right now so we’re holding you here until we know if we can put you back or not.”
“I…I don’t understand I – …oh god Hugo. Hugo! I was on my way to our anniversary dinner. He’s probably sitting there waiting, he has no idea. Someone needs to-”
Michael interrupted again, “Hugo’s in the hospital’s waiting room. He’s the one that called us actually. It was a pretty big signal, scared Daniel pretty good.”
Daniel hmph’ed, “That was not funny.”
“It was terribly amusing. Oh look, seems like you get to go back. Lucky you! Any questions before you go?”
“You..so you’re telling me that you answered Hugo’s prayers? Prayer actually works?”
“Oh gracious no, it’s love that calls us, love. Bye now, see you in 71 years!”
Dr. Turner polished her glasses on the way to the waiting room. She was wearing a fresh coat. “Is there a Mr. Hugo Evans here?”
“ME! That’s me! I’m Hugo,” a handsome man sulking in the corner dropped the magazine he wasn’t really reading and bolted up right, “Is Jesse alive oh please god tell me he isn’t dead please…”
Dr. Turner sat on the chair next to him, encouraging him to sit back down too, “Mr. Mays survived surgery.”
Hugo sucked in air sharply and covered his mouth as fresh tears cascaded down his face, “Oh god, Jesse…”
“I won’t sugar-coat things for you, Mr. Evans. We lost a pulse on the table but we were able to bring it back. He’s stable and in critical care now, but the next 24 hours are going to be extremely crucial. Statistically those injuries have a near 99% mortality rate, so Mr. Mays has already passed the worst hurdle. He’s very lucky.”
The patient’s boyfriend was speechless with emotion so the doctor let him sob.
Hugo sniffled, “I…don’t feel very lucky right now. I feel very scared. He…can…can I see him?”
She paused, “You can, but to be honest I would not recommend it alone. Can you contact his family? It’s a lot to see alone.”
Mr. Evans wiped his nose on a tissue from a box he found on the sidetable and nodded, “I…I’ll call his mom, she’ll call the rest.” He hiccuped.
Dr. Turner gave him a reassuring pat before noting she’d check in with him soon, then left to check on Mr. May’s status.
An hour later, when Jesse’s mother was sitting besides the wrecked body of her son, a nurse came by to hand her the patient’s belongings in a bag. There wasn’t much – most of his clothing had been cut off by the paramedics and too sodden to save. She rifled through the socks and debris, tears silently sliding down her face. Her fingers bumped something small yet bulky wrapped in an opaque plastic bag and stuffed in a shoe. Curiously, she dug it out and peeked at the contents. Inside, was an indigo velvet box.
TOPIC: four college buds sharing a cabin rental together are about to change clothes and hit the few bars in the small resort town nearby. two will get lucky, finding the perfect piece of tail and spending the night elsewhere. one will go back to the cabin drunk and sadly horny from a futile pussy chase. one will end up missing for over 30 days.
DISCUSS: choose which one of the four “buds” ends up “mia” and briefly describe what happens to him?
Answer: The one second to left.
The man he couldn’t see smacked his balls until they red and swollen and his cock was hard as a rock. Gagged, blind-folded, and tied to the bed, he could only emit muffled screams as the unknown assistant alternated between striking his tender genitals with a riding crop and massaging them with a cool hand. Just when he was about to start crying, the smacks stopped. The blind folded was removed and the captive blinked slowly in the natural daylight of the bedroom. There was a man standing over him, wearing a hood to obscure his features. He had no tattoos, no identifying marks…just a thin, long penis swaying between his legs.
The man resumed rubbing the bound boy’s testicles, but reached over and picked up something on the bed. It looked like a large hole puncher or something. The stranger set it on his stomach, followed by a bag of tiny rubber bands.
“First of all, I’m going to keep you here for a month or so. You will wear a shock-collar, you will be put in chastity and forbidden to masturbate. I will decide when you eat, when you bathe. You will only be allowed to use the toilet once a day, so you will be wearing a diaper. You will come to me to have it changed. You will service all my sexual needs, including giving my balls a tongue-bath in the morning.” The young man’s eyes were wide, he protested under the gag and shook his head wildly back and forth.
“That isn’t the choice. That is what’s going to happen. Do you know what this is?” the man gestured to the metal instrument on the lad’s chest. “It’s a neutering device. It stretches those rubber bands which are then applied to the testicles. Eventually, they just fall off.” The captive was shaking now, the whites of eyes clearly visible. “That is your choice. You stay here for 30 days and be my sex slave, or I neuter you and add you to my collection of sterile boys in the barn I rent out as sex slaves. There is a collector in Germany who would love to have your fat balls in a jar.”
For a moment there, the master thought the captive had passed out and struck him on the tip of his cock to get his attention again. It worked.
“I will tell you that I’m not so cruel. There will be nights where your will flesh sting, your ass sore, and your cock aches, but your life will never be in danger. Getting rid of bodies is… a tad inconvenient, So, young man, are you going to be good? For me?” The master’s eyes glimmered as he saw the tied up boy nod his head miserably. “Good boy. I’ll go get your collar, chastity device, and diaper. Oh one more thing. There’s video cameras in every room… if you run away, the tapes get set out to everyone you ever knew.”
Pleased, he left the room to let the boy think about his new life for the next month.
I started the sophomore year of college single. I quickly noticed this jock lookin’ guy in my advanced chemistry class. He looked like a bruiser, with this captivating profile and sexy, solid build dotted with questionable tattoos. Very distracting. Pensive, focused. A couple weeks into classes, I was packing up when I heard him approach the teacher, “Doc, I’m sorry, this Lewis dot stuff this is not sticking.” I waited until Bruiser left the lecture hall then I followed him in step, asking if he needed a tutor. He said yes and looked visibly relieved.
So there we were, in my crowded little apartment, bent over a card table with papers everywhere. His name wasn’t actually Bruiser, it was Jules, but his family called him Judge because he was so serious-looking. Judge wanted to be a doctor, but that was a long way from a GED he got in juvie. I asked what he did, and he said set cars on fire when he was part of a gang. Maybe it was because I was a sheltered white STEM nerd, but that edge turned me on.
“Alright, so~ looking at your Lewis dot skeleton structure for H2S04, how many bonds do you have?”
“1..2… 6. There’s 6.”
“Good! So draw the lines for this example…” I was pressed up so close to him, I could smell the hint of aftershave behind his ear.
“See, Judge, not so hard. Now just take your electrons – what was the number you got earlier?
"32. Or 16 electron pairs.” Judge beamed.
I clapped him on the back, “Good!” I left my hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
“Now distribute those around the electronegative oxygens…” I introduced to him a secondary way to draw the potential structure, and we continued on with using formal charge calculations to determine which one was correct. Judge bent over his paper with his brow furrowed like a sharpei.
I tapped his math with my pencil eraser, “Look at your numbers. The central atom’s charge must be the same number as the over all charge, so which Lewis Structure is the correct one?”
“…The…the one on the …right?”
“You sure?”
He sat up, “Yes, it’s the one on the right.”
“Correct, to every last dot.” Watching the pride bloom on his face at that moment would be more rewarding than any A I would get in class that year.
“I GOT IT!” he hooted, “I got it!” In a fit of jubilation he grabbed my face and kissed me right on the lips.
I nearly fell off the chair as his huge hands engulfed my jaw and our mouths met in crushing capacity. Judge pulled back suddenly, as if suddenly aware of his actions. “I… woah sorry man, I just…I guess I was just so happy I could kiss you…” Judge chuckled nervously, “No homo.”
I fisted his white T-shirt, and drew him back to me. He nearly knocked the chair over standing up so he could press his weight down on me properly and kiss me slowly and thoroughly. My pulse pounded in my ear as my cock began to expand in my pants. Judge retracted again, breathing audibly, “Dude what was that?”
“I….” I swallowed, “I think it’s time to take a break from chemistry for a little anatomy lesson.” I stood up myself, and without asking his permission, dragged him over to the couch.
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This is for gay-college-science because they hinted for a gay college science story in one of my reblogs. You got your wish, even though it took me an hour to figure out this S2S04 stuff.
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.
“What’s going on in here?”
“…Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Nope. Absolutely nothing. Just…washing his back.”
“Yep.”
”:…..sure…”
It was a year after my best friend from college, Zach, moved East, and a year before I got engaged to Emily. We’d going on a million hiking and camping trips in the Northwest but had always wanted to do a backpacking trip around Europe. I was between jobs, and Zach had accumulated some vacation time, so we said fuck it, why not? We were now in our early 30s, not our heavy-drinking college years, but it would be a blast, staying in hostels, taking night trains, couchsurfing, the whole lot.
Only getting laid wasn’t as easy as we thought it would be. I think we had in our head that all we had to do was show up and magically hot Eastern European women would want to jump in bed with us. Not the case.
It wasn’t even our second night train before Zach and I started moaning about how horned up we were. I was wearing a T-shirt and briefs, Zach just his boxers and it was evident that we were sporting full erections. The amazing thing was we weren’t embarrassed or apologetic. It just felt natural.
Zach broke the spell a little by speaking up. “Glad we could do this trip, bro,” he said softly. Already I was leaning in. Just like I did with a chick on the first date. First a gentlemanly peck, then a full French kiss. Zach kissed back, but between his bristle and the force I knew I wasn’t kissing a girl. It felt new, intense, and great.
I was the first and to my knowledge only dick to penetrate my buddy’s asshole, and for the whole trip I was the one who did the fucking. It seemed to work for both of us, and weirdly for the next three weeks we had an experience I could only describe as romantic. After the trip, we went back to our normal lives, and that was OK too, but I’m glad I could bond with him and discover a new part of me. Of us.
Zach was the best man at my wedding of course, and after the bachelor party I rolled over on my stomach and let him fuck me. I wanted to see what the fuss was about. He kept whimpering and thanking me the whole time he pounded me and as he ejaculated, he grunted my name and told me he loved me.