Tag: houseboy

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“Kip? Boy, what are you doing back there? Come on out now, it’s alright.”
“But…” he looks at the floor, his blue eyes obscured by long lashes. “You’ll look.”
I try to suppress an ‘aww’. Despite all the beef on his body, he’s cuddly and shy as a rabbit. “Yes, I will. There’s no reason to be ashamed of it.”
“Isn’t it …vulgar? To want to be nude?”
“No. You’re born nude aren’t you? To be honest Kip, I would go as far as saying that you are far too lovely to cover your body up with clothes anyway.”
He blushes all over and hides behind the curtain more. I remind myself that hardened leather daddys do not say “aww”. “If you’re really uncomfortable, you can put your underwear back on,” I offer. Maybe taking this slow wasn’t a good idea – glacial is probably a better speed for him.
He thinks about it and chews on his lower lip. “I came here to spend a weekend with you, to learn what it was like to be a houseboy. I should be more grateful for your patience, and not hiding behind you curtain.”
“How did you imagine this weekend would go?”

Kip blinks and twists his fingers in the sheer fabric of the drapes. “I imagined me cleaning, organizing, maybe cooking a little – domestic bliss, really, which is embarrassing.”
“Why is it embarrassing?” I ask, feeling more like a therapist than a Master.
“Because a man shouldn’t want to do those things,” he says softly.
“Ah.” I see what’s going on now. He thinks that coming out from behind that curtain means going against what it means to be a ‘man’. “Kip,” I say in a soft soothing voice, “Who dictates what a boy can or can’t do? You’re the only one who does. It’s just you and I here. There are no other judges. I respect men that accept who they are and embrace it. You’ve already made positive steps. You’ve recognized that you find peace in cleaning and tidying, that having a clean house is how you show affection and love to a man you like. Most people don’t get that far.”

His eyes light up. I can tell Kip is relieved I understand him. “I …just want to make someone happy. I know it’s selfish, but I’m really a homebody. I don’t want to do anything amazing, or receive a lot of attention. Just knowing my hard work makes someone else’s life easier and more comfortable makes me feel really content. Well the idea of it anyway…you know, it’d be nice to be on a nice farm, waking up to roosters, fetching the eggs, making my Master a new breakfast…”

“And you will get that. You are unshaped clay, Kip. You are going to make some man very happy one day.”
Kip smiles. “Really?”
“Yes. Tell me, when you pictured this lifestyle in your head, do you picture yourself nude?”
The pink color returns to his face. “Yes, normally.”
“Why?”
“Be… because,” he stumbles over his words and shifts his weight to the other foot. “Because… a man’s home is his domain. It’s his to access and use as he pleases. I think, a houseboy should be the same. They’re part of the house. If I’m covered up, then that sends a message that the Maser can not fully enjoy what he owns. That feels wrong.”
I nod. “After a long day at work, a man does appreciate coming home to a gorgeous naked boy and a clean spotless house.”
“I want that! I really do… but first I have to get over this fear of being naked. It’s so stupid. I think because I developed later than most boys, I used to change in the bathroom at school.”

The poor thing. There has to be something I can do. Then, I get an idea. “How about baby steps? Hold on a moment.” I leave the room and jog upstairs, returning a moment later with a pair of underwear. “Here. I think this will help.”
Kip accepts them and turns them over in his hands. The slinky blue fabric slips through his fingers like water. “Oh, they’re semi-transparent!”
“Yes. You’ll feel covered and secure, but I’ll still be able to see a bit. When you’re ready, we’ll move on to a more see-through pair.”
“Is this normal? I mean, for a houseboy in training?”
I fold my arms. “You have a long way to go until you’re ready to sign a contract, but there is nothing wrong with taking training slow. Every boy is different.”

Kip nods then ducks behinds the curtains to step into the underwear. I can see the silhouette of his soft member through the muslin. I sigh softly. Something about Kip just makes me want to cuddle him all day, to take picnics into meadows and make daisy crowns or something. Kip’s a delicate lad; I’m excited that he picked me to be the first man to explore his body and teach him pleasure. I imagine being inside of him would be like ascending to heaven. My cock begins to stir by the time Kip steps out from behind the curtain. I eye him from head to toe. The underwear fits him perfectly. They hug his waist and thighs, and make his eyes sparkle. He’s still blushing a little. He’s made the first step to his future.

“Excellent. Now, we can begin.”

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Text is fictional. Source is model Colt Pratte, photographed by Angela Rose. More pictures in source link.

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A houseboy enjoys the attention of his Master’s young guest. He never thought about serving the guests this way, but the more Peterson teases his nipples the more the urge to protest ebbs away…. He likes the hand on his ass, likes being held in place in a man’s lap. The houseboy looks over at his Master for approval, direction. His Master smirks and raises his wine chalice in acknowledgement then glances at his guest. “Peterson, dear, I know you must be terribly pent up after your long journey but save his virginity, I have not taken it yet.”
Peterson groans. “You lay out a feast, but give me a sugarspoon to eat it with.”
The house Master tsks. “He is not yet ripe, but his scent says he is fruiting. You may ravish him in any other way, just do not spoil him.”
“It frustrates me, but I’ll behave myself. Best you take him soon, or other predators will no doubt steal your prize.”
An eyebrow goes up. “That ‘prize’ is branded and owned with papers, mind you, no fool would risk that that for one night of copulation.”
Peterson smiled. “Mmm…but you haven’t tasted these nipples and listened to him pant. A lot of logic escapes the mind when there’s a horny boy in your lap.”

The Master chuckles. “Aye of that I can agree. Hence why I’m going to watch you both…it is a most enjoyable view.”
“You hear that houseboy?” Peterson asks, nibbling on his ear. “We best give your Master a show or he will be ever so grumpy tomorrow.”
“He is adorable when he’s grumpy though,” the houseboy adds, daring to be a bit cheeky.
“Boy, do not say such slanderous things. I am not.”
Peterson laughed. “Oh yes you are. But we’re going to make him a happy man aren’t we? Now houseboy, let’s see…what’s between your legs hm?”

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Text is fictional. Watermarked.

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Corbin dusted his hands off as he jogged up the stairs. He was already up and had gone through his morning routine. He fetched the paper, made sure Fabian’s shoes were polished, and laid out his clothes over a chair. It was 7:30, time to wake him up. He gently placed a hand on his Master’s shoulder. “Good Morning, Sir, it’s time to get up,” he said gently.
“Mmphhh,” Fabian protested, rolling onto his side. “Sleepy.”
“Sir, it’s 7:32. You need to get up,” Corbin said gently.

They worked together like a well oiled machine; Fabian would wash up and do a brief session of yoga while Corbin made breakfast. Sometimes he swapped the yoga for more intimate activities. While Fabian would eat breakfast, Corbin would pack his lunch. After a good-bye kiss, his Master would go off to work; Corbin would eat the leftovers then begin his daily chores and errands around college classes. However, this was all hinged around them both getting up at the right time.

Master Fabian groaned, “I’m so tired from last night. I’m going to skip yoga this morning.”
This was understandable. They’d been uplate trying out the new sling. Master Fabian had a lot of fun connecting Corbin’s nipples to the tip of his locked cock and listening to him moan with every thrust. Corbin had slept like a rock that night, totally depleted of energy. It seemed the session drained his Master too.

At the declaration that he was skipping yoga, Corbin waited for Fabian to throw back the blankets and expose his proud erection for care, but Fabian just snuggled deeper into the sheets. He rolled over onto his other side and held up the comforter on the empty side of the bed. “You, get in here. I want to hold you.”
“But – but Sir, breakfast and-”
“Now.” Even half asleep he could use that bossy tone that gave Corbin goosebumps.
Corbin glanced at the clock. Well they had about fifteen minutes. He walked around to the side of the bed and crawled in. The second he settled, strong arms wrapped around his upper body. A content sigh came from behind Corbin as he felt a scratchy jaw nuzzling his shoulder. “You’re so warm…”
“Do you want me to do anything to please you Sir?”
“Just stay still boy.”
Corbin did. He was pleased to be in his Master’s bed and folded in his strong arms. The mattress was comfy – softer than Corbin’s own futon in the walk in closet. The pillows carried Fabian’s scent, and the comforter trapped all the warmth until they were both snuggled up like in a cocoon. Although he’d felt awake enough a minute ago, Corbin’s eyelid began to droop and he yawned. He could hear his Master’s slow shallow breathing behind him. Corbin began to worry he was going to fall asleep. He considered that they should probably set an alarm or something but –

He was roused when a phone rang. He sat up, blinking blearily, listening to Fabian answer and talk on the phone. When Corbin glanced at the clock, his heart sank – it was 10:34. Judging by the conversation, it was Fabien’s work place, wondering why their boss hadn’t show up today. Corbin could hear the conversation. They’d both overslept, and terribly at that. Not only had none of the morning chores gotten done, his Master was late to work. Corbin’s mind went from deep pleasure to instant fear of punishment.

When Fabian hung up the phone, he looked at Corbin who was all wide eyed and terrified.
“Sir I’m sorry – I should have set the al-
"Boy.”
“Yes sir…?” he asked meekly.
Fabian stretched. “When I told you to get into bed, I was aware of the potential consequences. What I wanted was to snuggle with you for a bit, work be damned. I feel so incredibly well rested. I really needed those extra hours especially after last night.”
Corbin blushed a little. “You wanted to snuggle with me Sir?”
“Mnn. It was nice to have some time with my houseboy. You’re very thermal.”
“T..thank you Sir. I enjoyed it too. Shall I go prepare breakfast?”

Master Fabian smiled and tossed off the comforter exposing his throbbing erection. “Nope. I’m going to be even later today. Now get the lube.”

Corbin’s eyes lit up. Getting to sleep in his Master’s bed and getting to receive his Master’s cock? It wasn’t even his birthday today. “Yes sir!”

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Text is fictional.

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rip-spank-jerk:

regretting his predicament

Sean loses it after five swats. He covers his face but it doesn’t stop the tears. He knows better than this! He’s so ashamed to be getting a spanking after seven months of not getting one. He used to get them every other day, and thought he’d finally proved to his Master he was a good, obedient boy who did not make mistakes. He feels so helpless, like he hasn’t made any progress at all, bent over his Master’s knee. His cock has long been locked up, so he’s frustrated and uncomfortable and everything just sucks. Each strike stings and makes him yowl. Soon he’s just bawling.

All Sean wants is to be a good boy, but when he closes his eyes all he sees is the disappointment on his Master’s face when he came home. Sean had gotten his chores done early, and so he decided to dust the bookcase and his Master’s CD and vinyl collection. It wasn’t something he’d been told to do, but it was noticeably dusty so he decided to do it anyway.
It was an open bookcase and there was a gap between the displayed goods and the wall. In the process of moving things around to dust in the gap, a record slipped out of its sleeve and crashed onto the wooden floor, snapping in half. In the haste to catch it, Sean dropped another and it chipped and cracked.

The first was a rare, limited edition copy highly sought after by collectors. The second Sean had damaged had been one of the records given to his Master by his deceased father. There was nothing Sean could do expect wait until his Master got home and explain his errors in a heavy, sad voice. Fibbing would only lead to worse punishment once it was discovered.

Oh, he knows better! He really does! He’d been given very clear instructions – he was free to clean anything in the house, but never his Master’s personal things without permission. He’s fucked up, and for it, he got the wooden spoon. Sobs wrack Sean’s body each time the implement strikes red flesh and his muscles tremble; his Master spanks him until his hand begins to hurt. He then lowers the spoon and massages the tender muscle with his other hand.

When he spoke, Sean could hear that the seething anger in his voice had dissipated. “I want you to know, boy, I did not enjoy having to do this. To say I am disappointed is an understatement, but it also reflects on myself. I got comfortable and you got sloppy. I do not like hearing you cry, boy, but you know I had to punish you. The records cannot be fixed, but they will be replaced. I’ll talk to Miguel about getting you some labor hours to work off the debt.”
Sean only gasps and hiccups. “I’m so so sorry Sir, I’m so sorry. Thank you Sir for allowing me to work it off. I feel so ugly for having failed you.”

“It is good to work out your weaknesses while still fresh out of training. You’re released, but I have instructions for you. First, go blow your nose, wash your face, and fetch me a clean pair of pants as you leaked all over these. I’m not mad at you for that, I expected it. Then, you’re going to drink a cup of water, then go to your cot with an icepack and think about how you can be a better houseboy. If you ever want to ascend into training to wear my collar, you will think very hard.”

Sean’s throat is tight and he can barely push any more words out. “Y- yes Sir. Exactly as you said Sir.” Sean sniffles, his face the color of a ripe tomato.
“That’s a good boy now.” He helps Sean to his feet, stabilizing him as he blood rushed downwards. In a moment of impulse, he gives Sean a brief hug. Sean returns it instantly and exhales a ragged sigh. “I’ll be better Sir.”
“I know. And that starts now. Go on. You’re dismissed.”

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Text is fictional. Source is the watermark.

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“Do you mind if I smoke?”
“No, go ahead, just don’t blow it in my face.”
“Yeah right on, right on. Sorry, I’m buying a vape thing with my next paycheck.”
“Good luck to ya mate.”
He smiles and nods, lighting up. “So …tell me again what is it exactly do you do for this guy you’re seeing?”
I nibble the flaky pastry, then sip my tea to hide a private smile. “I’m his houseboy.” I leave out the part about pup play.
“His…houseboy?” Marcus repeats. “Like a slave?”
“No no.” I shake my head and set down my cup. “We have a contract, and it’s all consensual. If I’m not cool with something, I get to say so immediately. Never had to do that though.”
Marcus takes a drag. “So what do you do?”
“I go over there four days a week. Here’s an example. Sunday is laundry day. I come over around 9. I make brunch, coffee, and fresh juice. While he eats, I’ll do the dishes ..or you know, blow him under the table.

Marcus barks out a laugh. "Really?”
“Oh yeah, he has like a fat five inch dick, it’s fun to suck.”
My friend shakes his head. “I don’t know what I’d do if I went down on a girl and found five inches.”
I smirk. “You just put it in your mouth and suck, Marcus.”
He sticks his tongue out at me.
“So anyway, I finish up. I tidy up anything out of place in the house, then I clean the bathroom. His underwear is all fine men’s underwear brands, so I fill up the tub and hand wash all his underwear and wool socks using Dr. Bronner’s soap. He says detergent is bad for them.” I shrug. “Then I hang it all on the line out in the backyard, and use run the rest through the washing machine. That too goes on the line.”
Marcus looks fascinated.
“So, normally during this time he’s gone on a run or a hike and if he’s back in time, I make him a late lunch. He goes to shower. I change the laundry out. I then do the grocery shopping and errands while he watches sports, and then I stay late cooking him meals for the week. We eat together. Normally by this point he’s horny again and he fucks me. I sometimes stay or I leave if I have an early exam.”
“Wow…” Marcus says, “So you’re like a maid with benefits?”
“Yes!” I say. “I do whatever he needs. I’ve cleaned and vacuumed his car, cleaned his gutters, powerwashed the driveway – which was a blast, oiled wood furniture, flipped his mattress, washed him in the bath… it’s very satisfying. He is very appreciative, and goodness gracious he gets so horny watching me serve.”
“He has a cleaning fetish…?”
I delicately sip my tea. “Oh didn’t I mention? I do all of this naked.”

I try not to laugh as Marcus drops his ash into his coffee and hurriedly pours them out, saving his drink. “W..what? Wait what? You’re naked while cleaning??”
“Oh yes. Well, I wear an apron while cooking. Grease and all.”
Marcus doesn’t know what to say. I nibble the pastry. “Hard to believe you used to be such a pious little choir boy,” he mutters under his breath.
I chuckle. “Well, that was before puberty.”
“How did you find this guy again?”
“I was at a kink party on someone’s roof. The host kept dropping the ball because he was so distracted, so I stepped into his place – keeping the food and drinks stocked, whisking away the trash, etc. A friend saw me and introduced me to Mr. White, who had a running reputation in their circle of being totally disorganized.”
“Aaahh. Well. Huh. Someone for everyone.”

“Mmmhmm. He’s wonderful. I’m really falling for him. There is a difference between fucking, making love, and being handled during sex. And Mr. White knows the difference between all three. I mean the pay is good, but I would do it for the sex if I could.”
“I don’t remember you being this cock-crazy.”
“Oh Marcus, once you find a girl that is the perfect fit, that is perfectly in synch with you, you will want her all the time. It’s like living near a donut store. You just end up eating more donuts.”
“Only in your story you’ve stuck your dick through the donut for him to eat off of?”
I gasp out a laugh and nearly spill my tea. “Marcus! My dick isn’t that tiny.”
He grins, stubbing out his cigarette. “Maybe I’ll find a girl who likes donuts and loves to clean in a maid uniform.”
“…Why don’t you ask Caroline?”
“….What? The waitress.”
“This is a coffee shop. She sells donuts. Ask her out.”
Marcus stares. He looks across the patio to where Caroline is talking to customers.
“Fuck it, I’m doing it.”

I watch him down his coffee, remove his smoke-scented jacket, then get up to go talk to her. Caroline goes back inside and I can’t see what’s happening. Marcus comes back after a long moment.

“So?? How did it go?”
He holds up a napkin with a smile. “Got her number.”
I clap my hands together. “Oh Marcus, congrats! What did you say?”
A sheepish look appears on his face and he runs his fingers through his hair. “Well she was kind of hesitant to date customers at work. So I thought about what you said – I asked her if she cleaned up at the coffee shop, and she said she did and hated it. I told her if we could get together sometime I’d clean her apartment for her in appreciation – in my underwear. And she said yes!”
My jaw drops and I choke back a laugh. “Marcus!” I’m delighted at his craftiness. “You sly dog. Congrats, again.”
“Mmm now you gotta teach me how to find fine men’s underwear and how to wash underthings in the tub or the sink.”
“Lucky for you Marcus, I am an expert.”

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Text is fictional. Source is too common to track down.

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“No…sit. Sit. Stay. Stay still. No wiggling. Good boy. Eyes up on me. Eyes. Up. Oh good boy. You look so cute today, puppy. You can lick my crotch after I’m done with my coffee. Not before. You’ve done cursed yourself – you made me such a damn good cup of coffee, I wanna enjoy it nice and slow. Ah-! No wiggling. That’s it.” sip “Man, you are adorable. I love having a houseboy and pup in one. mm what do you call that? A housepup?”
Bark!
“That’s what I thought. You’re such a good housepup, Cortado.” sip “ Hey, how on earth are you staying so still but your tail is wagging?”

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Text is fictional. Model is Todd Sanfield of underwear company www.toddsanfield.com. ‘Cortado’ is a coffee term.

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I bought the apron for him as a joke. I expected Bastiaan to be annoyed about it, because ethnicity is such a touchy subject with him. His mother was from Spain and his father was Dutch, but he was born in the Netherlands so he insists he’s 100% Dutch despite genetics (and most of his friends) saying otherwise. Turns out Basti loved the apron and he strutted around my kitchen wearing it with pride. Sure, I prefer him naked. I was not shy about ogling the way his muscles as they expanded and contracted under his skin, the way his buttocks clenched and unclenched as he moved, or the way his balls swung. He was golden and gorgeous, and all that black hair was fine as hell.

It was his job to clean naked though, and at that he got flawless reviews. I had met Bastiaan at a swanky bar. I was kind of drunk and he was cuddling with me, and I was teasing his hair with my fingertips. I was whispering into Basti’s ear all the things I wanted to do to him, how many ways I could fuck him. It wasn’t long before he was begging me to rub him between the legs, even in that semi public setting. I did. I soon realized he was prostituting himself when we started talking about money, but I was too obsessed with him to care.

We were drunk on tequila and peach liquor, and so I took him home and enveloped him in attention and touches. The next morning, I woke up more than a tad hung-over. Bastiaan was an immortal god, cured by an aspirin and an electrolyte drink. He hung around, taking care of me. When he got bored, he began to clean despite my insistence… but I soon stopped protesting. The view helped my headache. 

I said to him: “I love watching you tidying up – especially when you bend over. You could make more cleaning people’s houses naked than you could prostituting yourself. It’d be safer and you wouldn’t drink so much, like I did.” I groaned, rubbing my temples for emphasis. I expected him to shrug off the comment, but he took to it with incredible interest. Of course, once I realized the potential of having a nude maid boy around the house I was totally on board with it too.

A couple phone calls and he had the start of a client base. Gay men talk to other gay men, and pretty soon he had steady work. I saw him first though, and I always get priority. In this job, ‘getting a tip’ is as phallic as you imagine it to be.

It’s a bit unfortunate I’m falling in love with this exotic boy. It’s getting hard to share him with others.

“…David? David? Earth to David?”
I blinked. “What? What is it boy?”
“Ciapianno or beef burgundy?”
“Both… just freeze the ciapianno in containers, I’ll bring them to work.”
He eyes me curiously, wondering where I went off to. “You alright?”
“Mmnn. Yeah, just thinking.”
“About what?”
“That you should call me Sir. And you should be a good boy and respect your Master.” I walked up behind him and let my hands roam over his waist and ass. “I think you like the idea of being a hot little slave boy at my whim,” I growled in his ear. “I should keep you naked and collar you, make you wear it in public.”
He moaned in response and pushed his ass against my crotch. “Fuck it, Sir, please don’t start with the sexy talk or I’m going to go into a frenzy. I need to make dinner first or-” I turned him sideways and kissed him, shutting him up.

I pushed his legs apart, slid a condom over my dick, and buried my lubed cock into his ass without any preparation. I kept him pressed between the counter and me, my hand against his throat which made it impossible for him to escape. He was panting so hard, keening so sweetly. I put a hand on his hip and gave him a hard, staccato fucking. It wasn’t meant to last and we both exploded shortly. Basti was still wearing the apron and his cum dripped down the inside of it.

As soon as it came on, the feral urge faded away. I blessed him with more kisses and wiped off his sensitive penis and ass with a cool damp paper towel. The flush on his cheeks made me gasp, he was so beautiful after sex. I wrapped my arms with him and rocked him until the afterglow faded.

“See, now you can make dinner without any distractions.”
“Mm have I ever told you I love how you fuck?”
I reply, “Your body tells me every time that you do. And you’re still gonna cook for me right?”
“Mmmhmnn,” he says lazily, “Cause that’s my job, and I’m damn good at it.”
“You are Basti. You let me know if you ever decide you want to retire. Because I want to keep you and cherish you, whenever you’re ready.”
I surprised myself by saying that. Again I misjudge him. I thought he’d tense and shrug me off with a polite dismissal. Instead, he leaned back into me more and nuzzled my chin. “I was hoping you’d say that. No one appreciates me and fucks me like you.”

“Oh Basti. I will, forever. Just tell me when ok?”
“Yes, I will David. And until then you’ll still fuck me?” he asks, hopeful.
“As long as you still cook,” I tease.
“Naked in an apron?”
“Yes, naked in an apron.”

“Then a shower after dinner?”
“God yes.”

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Text is fictional. Model is Pedro H. Moutinho, and you MUST see the rest of the photos. So fuckin’ sexy. Late night post cause I had a long day! Pedro has a Twitter too, but it’s in Portuguese I think.

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The buckshot scatter of freckles and bright red hair gave his origins away instantly. I ghosted the back of my fingers over his soft cheek. “Pretty boy, what are you doing so far from home?”

He cast his eyes down. “I am not pure blooded. They discarded me. No one will hire me or let me board because of stereotypes, they think I am a danger.”
“You don’t seem dangerous. You’re bonded using minimal security devices, no muzzle or harness or hood.”
“They fear that I will burn them all or set their houses on fire while I sleep.”
I give him a soft look of pity. Life is not easy for half-blooded demons in this world, especially the element ones. “So how did you end up for auction here?”
“I offered myself. I was terrified I’d be kidnapped and sold into slavery on the black market to a collector. I heard horrible things…” he trails off. “Well, at least, this way, the Society screens the bidders and I’ll go a good home. This is my third auction though, and it seems no one in society wants me at all, not even as a pet.” His shoulders sagged, and I could hear in his voice he was on the verge of tears. “I don’t know why my parents even conceived me. They should have been more careful.”
“Poor boy.” I caress his cheek again. The heat under his skin is magnetic. I can’t fathom how anyone would turn his prize down. It routinely dips below 0 in the winter. His bright hues would be a welcome sight against the whiteness of the season, and his hot thermal body would be a welcome addition to cold nights.

“I own and run a musical instrument shop and repair center. There is a lot of wood. Are you going to be a danger to my merchandise?”
His eyes search mine, unsure what I am truly asking. “No – no sir!”
“You can control it?”
“Yes,” he says, with confidence. “It is not as strong as others, because I am half-blooded, but I can control it. I don’t sneeze fire or whatever the rumors say.”
I snicker. “I heard one that says fire demons ejaculate lava.”
He screws up his face into one of annoyance. I find it charming. “That is wholly incorrect Sir.”
I chuckle. “I would hope so.” I wave over a clerk and ask for his dossier. The clerk rushes to bring me the clipboard and I peruse the documents. I read through his medical papers, making sure I’m not missing anything. “Mn I see you’re on the pill…you still experience heats? I thought that didn’t happen in half-bloods?”

He shifts, embarrassed. The chain connecting the cuffs on his feet rattles lightly. “Another untruth. If the dominant genes are human, no, if the dominant genes are from the demon parent, then yes. I was genetically screened when I joined the Society – my human genes are recessive.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I see. I appreciate your honesty, boy.”
“…Is that bad?”
“No. I think I would enjoy having you off the pill very much, though.” My hand lifts his cock and pulls back the foreskin, making sure it’s not too tight. I hum an approval.
He blushes hard.
“Clerk? Please bring me the bidding paperwork please.”

The young lad lights up. “You’re really- I mean, you want to purchase my contract?”
“I think three auctions is enough. You’re eager and beautiful and will thrive under my training in my home. I can see you would benefit from being taught some decorum, and I will fix that. I can see the ache to serve in you, to be wanted, to have a place. Plus, now I won’t have to fuss over lighting that stupid pilot light again.”

He beams and I can smell the fresh scent of roasting cedar coming off his skin. “I will not disappoint you Sir.”
The clerk brings over the paperwork and waits to guide me to a bidding counselor. I turn to leave the half-blood so I can go sit down and fill it out, but at the last moment I turn and give him a parting phrase. “All I ask is that you do not burn me. And I do mean both definitions of that word.” I leave with the clerk and let the lad ponder its meanings.

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Text is fictional. The saturation on this picture is way up, but the model’s name is redhead Oliver Dale.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Sebastian knew he was not allowed to touch his Master’s musical equipment. He could only run a feather duster over their surfaces. A lot of it was very valuable, some probably more valuable than he was as a replaceable houseboy. Yet, out of everything, the keyboard tempted him the most. He went to close the window because rain was on the way, and lo and behold, the keyboard was right there. He was mulling over the temptation to press them and didn’t hear his Master wake up from his nap.

The notes of Für Elise drifting down the hallway were unmistakable. Sebastian’s Master knew instantly his boy was breaking a cardinal rule. He caught him red handed, guilt all over his face. Sebastian knew it was against the rules and had done it anyway, had given into temptation.

Sebastian tried to smooth this over by placing his hands against the wall and pushing out his ass, assuming the spanking position. His Master stood behind him for a moment, quiet, until he said just one word: “Why?”
“Instruments were meant to be played Sir…I’m sorry I gave into temptation, Sir.”
His Master sighed. “Well I am disappointed. You know I don’t like anyone else’s fingerprints but mine on my instruments. At least your Für Elise was on point. You are going to get a spanking, boy. Face forward.” Sebastian heard him rustling around. “Now you can’t see this, but in my hand is a tuning device. When I strike you, you will tell me which note it sounds like. You’re getting 25. For every missed answer, you will get another swat, doubling your number. For every right answer, you’ll get five minutes to masturbate under my supervison.”
Sebastian’s eyes went wide. “Sir that’s-!”
“A challenge? Yes. If you think you are so accomplished at music that it excuses putting a houseboy’s fingerprints on my things, I want evidence.”
Sebastian groaned. He really did know better and felt stupid the had no one to blame for this but himself. Still, a part of him was impressed at his Master’s creativity and brilliance in keeping him in line.

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Text is fictional.