I tell you what, knock 20% off the asking price since I can guarantee somebody already popped its cherry and you got a deal. Have it cleaned and boxed up and ready for shipping by 5:00pm and we’ll take it with us.
Tag: kept boy
Il est amusant d’essayer d’imaginer ce qu’il voit sur la droite.
It’s a fun game to try to guess what he sees on the right.
Oh Simbad, you teach us the best French with your simple but erotic little captions. Merci.
In Western society, we cast downward looks upon anyone who has someone serving under them. Can’t they drive themselves? Can’t they fold their own laundry? Can’t they make their own breakfasts? Is it so hard? That poor maid, the poor nanny, the poor butler, how humiliating.
Yet, no one ever considers that servant would have a desire to serve and the master has put aside his self-sufficiency to give contentment to his slave.
Ever since I was little, I liked to clean, cook, and organize. I was passive, quiet, and observant. My mother worried. I went to college but did not find my way. I threw myself into the BDSM scene, yearning for even a moment to pretend my role was real. After years of play, I was introduced to someone at a fetish party. He was serious; he understood. Like me, he was alone in his perspective. He would not have been out of place in an old English country estate commanding a full staff while simultaneously throwing grand lawn parties and being the perfect host to the lords and ladies.
There is a private joy in being a good slave. We share one life in both the present and future. He dictates the schedules, chores, and errands and I can do them all without having to pester Him questions. I know exactly what He wants and my actions improve His life.
There is a certain level of psychic communication too. Master will come in from the autumn sleet to find a hot bath drawn and ready, or Master will wake up on a fine spring morning to floral-scented air breezing in through the open windows. Or perhaps, a touch of brandy in his coffee. An extra cookie in his lunch. Warming His bed with my lubricated, naked body for him to find after a long frustrating day running of his business.The list is endless.
He loves me. He is fair. His punishments are just. In public, the curious glances my behavior attracts roll off of me like water on a duck’s back. I show off my collar with pride. I have no shame in being exposed or chaste. It is for His proud gaze and eager touch that I live and the euphoria that accompanies it is my raison d’etre.
There’s a plaque that hangs on the wall in the laundry room that I extol. It says: “A place for everything, and and everything in its place.”
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ed note – this story will likely under go some revisions later; I have to go now.
“Boy, I know you used to like playing with that dick of yours 3-4 times a day, but those days are officially gone! That cock has only been locked up for 2 days so you can stop staring at it like it’s been 2 months… Now get your ass spread out on the bed so I can strap you down for the night… no touching allowed even if you are wearing your chastity cage…”
This master has the right idea. A collar, harness, tattoos, and boots are the only “clothing” this slave should ever wear.
Clevelandfag has now served 120 days in chastity, on top of the 104 days he served earlier this year. That’s 224 days out of 271 days that the faggot hasn’t had access to its dick.
Here it is in its cell last weekend, shackled by the foot, urinal gag in place, and ass plugged with a locking buttplug -holding in the 70 loads of man cum in his ass you guys sent in.
You’re not getting released today faggot. Not until you tell us who you are. When you’re ready to expose yourself, then you’ll be free. Until then, living the lie you’ve chosen for yourself, you’re in bondage.
Thank You Sir. That’s very fair. The faggot is learning that it does not deserve its dick „, the fag’s dick provides no real purpose and should probably be locked away permanently. The fag also knows that it will need to expose itself at some point, revealing its identity and contact information for all on the Web to see at all times, and deal with the consequences of all that means. That will happen, Sir … someday. Thank You Sir, for the way You treat this faggot.
i am a faggot
Wow, these two are intense. Sometimes reality is more unusual than fiction.
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’.]
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Original picture is from DeviantArt here, but reblogged from buzzerguy via fazing.
SEQUEL IS HERE.