Tag: kept boy

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“Leave us.”
Porter watches his henchmen go, before turning his attention to his new toy. His men had washed and shaved him, before putting him back in his underwear for display.
“You are quite a catch. Healthy. Strong. Will be useful at the docks. Now i’m gonna tell you this once and only once. You’re life could have ended yesterday at the end of my gun. You fucked up real good, but I know you were stealin’ to take care of your mama. I’ve given you mercy, so now your life is mine. You are my indentured man now. I expect you to be obedient and not too uppity. You will work when I say so, keep my bed warm at night, and your mom will get a nice deposit from now on. But the more you act up, the more you disobey the less she gets. So you be a good boy now, and we won’t have any problems.”
“N-n-no Sir. Thank you Sir.”
“That’s what I thought. You got a right head on you. You’ll learn fast. Now you will kneel in respect when I walk into a room. Back straight now. Knees together. Hands behind your back. Excellent. Remember that, I will test you. Now Roberts will show you to your quarters and get you fitted for a chastity device.”
“A – a what?”
“A chastity device, boy. You are going to have to earn every single privilege starting from zero. Down to the fork you eat with, and the cock you masturbate with.”
He stares at Porter with huge eyes.
“Don’t worry, you won’t be the only one in my squad with one on. Surely you can make some friends.” Porter grinned.

The boy worked his jaw, then stared at the carpet. He tried not to think about what was ahead but…it was better than jail. Or a coffin. And his mom got her medication and apartment paid for. He had no future anyway – a high school drop out, a delinquent who stole for cash. His only other job had been a drug runner. Porter was offering him a future, in a twisted sort of way. It was his only choice.

“Yes…. yes Sir. I don’t like the idea of the chastity cage Sir but…is it going to hurt?”
“No boy. You might feel some tightness. Any ache, you tell me, and I’ll fix it.”
“…Thank you Porter.”
“Sir.”
“Sir.”

“Good boy. Roberts! Come on here, get him fitted and take him to his quarters please until dinner.”
Roberts came back into the room. “Aye aye Captain. Alright, boy, come with me. And don’t you give me no shit, cause I’m not nearly as patient as ol’ Porter here. Man you’re a cute little thing.” He grinned. “You’re gonna fit in juuuust fine.”

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Text is fictional. This looks like Bound Gods to me…

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“Sir – I can’t wear this! It’s – it shows off everything!” he stammers.
I remain firm. “You will wear them because I say so, and if you go against my orders I will spank you in them.”
He plucks at the tight denim and screws up his face. “I’m sorry for being stubborn, Sir, but but….why?”
“Think about it, boy. Your cock has lost its function as a sex object. It’s hidden away, no longer allowed to harden like a real man’s cock would. Since it’s just flesh now, it doesn’t need to be tucked away. I want it on display where I can see my property and make sure it gets fresh air. Plus, every time you feel the breeze against your smooth balls, you’ll remember you’re owned.”
“Yes…yes Sir, I am owned. Thank you for holding my key and training me.”
“Good boy. It’s been a pleasure. Now, go on your evening walk now and stop by the gas station on the way home to pick up a family-sized bag of Skittles.”
“Family-sized sir?”
“Yes. For sharing with good, obedient boys. Unless of course, I have to spank you and restrain you and you can watch me eat them.”

He stares at me. I can see the gears in his head moving. Skittles are his favorite candy, and he is on a sugar-restricted diet to curb his ballooning weight. His last Master spoiled him nearly rotten. He was more of a pampered poodle than an actual slave; he was not punished for rule breaking, gorged on whatever he pleased, and cock was allowed to go free. Why even own a slave if all you do is – …I shake my head and cut my own thoughts off. I didn’t want to irritate myself thinking about that again.

He’s made his decision. “May I take a bottle of water on my walk Sir?”
“Yes,” I say, punctuating it with a smile. “Take one of the little sports bottles.”
He nods and sets his face, determined to face humiliation and complete his task. “May I be dismissed Sir?”
“Yes. Oh, and one more thing boy?”
“Yes Sir?”
“If you feel the urge to piss on your walk…I expect you to do it outdoors and I want you to film it on your phone for proof.”
His eyes go wide. He’s never been asked to do anything quite so daring, so naughty. “Sir-!”
“Yes? Is there a problem?” I absentmindedly tug on his cage.
He works his jaw, then swallows he words; he squirms in my grip. “No …no Sir, there isn’t. I’m going on my walk now.”
Little by little, I can see the stubbornness and attitude problems melt away to reveal the prize of a slave underneath. He makes me so proud, every single day. “Good boy,” I say with as much fondness in my voice as I can. I squeeze him on the ass then give it a pat to indicate he should go; I watch him prepare for his walk and leave the house. After a moment of reflection, I get up and go to find a candy dish and check the batteries in the vibrator.

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Text is fictional. I think source is OP.

Sorry, one post today – not feeling well.

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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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mastermikes-slave:

After an intense pain-pig training session Master comforts HIS property. Using pain and pleasure to manipulate HIS slave, Master Mike expresses HIS absolute dominance with HIS mental attitude of absolute superiority and control.

“You made me very proud today. Master Will told me he was impressed with you, and I’ve never heard him say that about anybody. I know your back, your balls, and your butt are throbbing. When we get home I’ll put some cooling salve on, and while you go out for a piss, I’ll put a soft blanket in your crate instead of that towel so you can rest fully before feeding time.”
“Thank you Sir, it was a pleasure and a honor to serve you with my body and mind Sir. This slave humbly accepts your generosity and will use that time to rebuild my energy and body into something you can use and manipulate again.” The slave tries to keep his voice neutral, but he’s on the brink of being emotional. He loves it, absolutely loves it, when his Master pets him and plays with his hair after a session and talks to him in this low, soothing tone. It means he’s done well, and lived up to all expectations. Nothing can make a slave happier to be fawned on by a strict Master and recognized for hard work.

Master Julian crinkles his forehead. “Boy, if you need to cry, you have my permission to do so. It’s a normal response to an intense session, and you didn’t cry very much after that strapping. Takahashi’s boy couldn’t even make it the whole way through.”
The slave manages a “thank you Sir” before his voice cracks and he begins to make little gasping noises as the tears stream down his face.  Tutting, Master Julian pulls him into a bear hug, minding his back, and rocks him until his slave’s shoulders stop heaving. “There there…that’s a good boy, Exi. Let it all out. Burn it all away until nothing is left but the pillar of your strength and training.”

The slave hiccups, hilariously loud. Master Julian goes over to the sink area and wets some paper towel, then wipes the tears and snot off his boy’s face.
“There we are now. Feel better, boy?”
He nods, his head hanging low in exhaustion. “This slave is lucky to have such a caring Master.”
Master Julian shares with him a private, little smile. “Because this Master loves this slave very much and does not see merit in damaging his property. Mental health is just as important as physical health.”
“Th- thank you Sir, that makes this slave want to work even harder to be worthy of your attention.”
“It’s my job to find your limits, Exi. Just obey orders and the rest will follow. Alright now. Let’s get you home, you need your nap before you fall asleep standing up.”

On the way out of the Dungeon, Master Will pulls Master Julian aside and inquires if he plans to sell Exi, like he did the rest. To Will’s surprise, Julian gently rebuffs his inquiry. Unlike the other five other boys he’d trained and sold – Uno, Two, San, Quatre, and Fimm – something had clicked with number six, he explained. To tear apart the bond between a slave and a Master would be ruinous to them both. Master Will understands this nods. A shame, but at least they can still play together. They shake hands, and Master Julian takes his beloved Exi home to recover.

Master Julian struts all the way to the car, wanting anyone who was in the parking lot to see his marked slave’s body and know that this slave on a leash was unquestionably His.

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Text is fictional. Source is from Teen Wolf. The names of the past slaves are simply 1 through 5 in other languages – Spanish, English, Japanese, French, and Icelandic. Exi is Greek. Julian picked those names based on their bloodlines.

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“Get up, boy.” Master Patrick pushed the steel tip of his boot into his slave’s butt. He gave him a couple little punts, not hard enough to bruise. “Come on, up with you. Nap time is over. All fours.”
“Y…yes sir,” the slave managed, shaking the sleep out of his head. The slave immediately propped himself so he was on his hands and knees, his collar and metal cuffs around his ankles and knees making soft metallic noises. When his Master clipped a leash held in his left hand to the collar, the slave let out a yawn. The Master ignored this and tugged the slave across the cement basement floor.

“Come on boy, you should be awake by now. Hurry up, Pet!” Pet moved as fast as he could, trying not to injure his knees. When they reached the stairs, his Master barked out, “Up. Standing.” The slave stood up quickly and followed his Master up the stairs. He was then dragged, stumbling to the kitchen. Pet was very confused but did as he was told.

“Sit.” Master Patrick pointed to a pulled out chair.
Pet stared at his Master, wondering if he heard that wrong. Slaves do not use their Master’s chairs.
“Sit or I will get the cane and beat you right now.”
Pet quickly down, a tad baffled. He didn’t know what to do with his hands and folded them in his lap. His Master put a blindfold around his eyes; Pet was pretty sure it was an eyemask for sleeping.

He felt his Master unclip the leash and set it on the counter. Pet heard the fridge door open and the clink of something ceramic set something on the counter. 

Pet was thinking about what this all meant when suddenly, the blindfold was removed. He blinked. Before he could get his bearings, Master Patrick set a large pink cake right down in front of him. “Happy Birthday Pet. Congratulations on turning 25.”
Pet stared at the cake, his eyes wider than the plate the cake was served on. His jaw dropped and words stuck in his throat. He looked at his Master, completely baffled. Patrick tried not to laugh, he’d never seen such a confused look on his slave’s face. His eyes kept darting from the cake to his Master, in disbelief that one was related to the other.

“I know your parents raised you as a Jehovah’s Witness, Pet, and I know you were never fond of it. You told me once how you used your sexuality to get out of the church.”
Pet nodded, dumbly.
“I knew you’d never had a real birthday before, and well…I found the most birthday perfect cake in a pastry shop and had to get it. I wanted to show my appreciation, because although I’m in charge, I can’t play without you. I just want you know, boy, that this past year with you has been my favorite year in all these years I’ve been doing BDSM. You’re true to yourself, and you know how to separate your slave self from your real life, and you when you are my slave there is no better slave.”
Pet opened his mouth to say something but Master Patrick held up his hand.
“So the reason there’s one candle is to signify your rebirth into a new life, as your new self. A life with birthdays in it.”

“I…. I…. Sir I-,” Pet sputtered. He was momentarily captivated as Master Patrick lit the single candle with a lighter. The flame sparkled in Pet’s eyes. The light danced in the frozen folds of the frosting, each little dot casting its own tidy shadow.
“Oh Sir,” he gasped, his throat tight.
“Go on, make a wish and blow it out boy.”
Pet blinked. He looked up at his Master, who nodded. Pet thought, make a wish, and blew it out. He clapped his hands as the smoke curled upwards. “Ooooohh.”
“Good boy.” Patrick sat in the chair next to Pet.
A lump formed in Pet’s throat and he began to sniffle as tears filled his eyes. “Sir this is the…the…I can’t even think of what to say! The cake is so beautiful, it’s perfect, and I’m just – I cannot give you a good enough blowjob to convey how much I love you right now. No one has let me explore my forbidden side like you. You just make me so happy.”
Master Patrick put a hand on the back of his slave’s shaved scalp and pulled him forward so he could kiss his forehead and dry his tears with a napkin. “Shh there there, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“Permission to hug you Sir?”
“Permission granted.”

Pet moved over one chair and snuggled up in Sir’s lap, sitting sideways, wrapping his arms around his neck and squeezing hard. “I never get to do this,” he murmured.
Master Patrick rubbed his back with one hand. “Mm you are warm. Were you really surprised? Didn’t know it was your own birthday? Permission granted to speak freely.”
“Thank you Sir.” He hiccuped. “Today’s the 26th right?”
“Yes.”
“I guess I just lost track of the days since I’m off work due to the renovation. I don’t need to know the days when we play, cause when I’m in headspace you’re my world.”
Master Patrick smiled. “Well it’s the 26th and it’s your birthday. I hope you’ll eat the cake…?”
Pet melted at the anxiety in his voice. “Yes! Of course, I’ve never had pink birthday cake before, it looks delicious. We’ll eat it together?”
“Yes, I’d like that. Oh, and don’t think I cheapened out – I got you a present too.”
“Sir! I’m just a slave…what do I need besides you?”
“Oh I thought of something. Trust me, I saw it at the adult store and knew you’d go crazy for it. But you’ll get it later, after we get back from from Terrance’s housewarming party tonight. I’m gonna tie a balloon to your collar so everyone knows.”

Pet couldn’t help but laugh. “Sir! That’s a bit silly, if I may say so.”
“Well I think it’s adorable and you don’t get a say.” He kissed his boy. “Mmm I cannot wait to kiss you when you taste like frosting.” He gave Pet a playful swat on the ass. “Go get the cake cutter in the utensil drawer and two plates.”
“Yes sir!” he bounded up and bounced over to the cabinet to get them. When he fetched the items and brought them to the table, he was momentarily captivated by the sight of the cake again and begin to cry fresh tears.
“Oh Pet…sweetheart. It’s alright. Come on, it’s just cake.”
“No, Sir, forgive me for saying so, but it’s more than that. It’s an embodiment of our past year together. I knew if we could make cake out of that, it would be so pretty and sweet, just like this. Made of blood, sweat, and tears.”
Master Patrick considered this. “That is very insightful thing to say for a slave. Yes, I would hope it would look like this too.”
“Can I make the first cut?”
“Yes, boy. Straight line.” Master Patrick smiled the entire time he watched his giddy slave boy cut the cake. When Pet stuck a finger full of frosting into his mouth, his eyes rolled back and lashes fluttered. “Careful boy, you can’t have an orgasm now, save it for later.”
“Sorry it’s really, really good-…did you say I’m going to get to cum later?”
Master Patrick smirked. “Yes. That’s your second birthday present – after your birthday spankings of course.”
Pet couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.  “Oh gosh, I love spankings. I suppose I’m getting 25 swats Sir?”
“Yes, and then I’m taking you to my bed. But first, come on! Let’s eat!”

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Text is fictional. Source below:

im-horngry:

Birthday Cake – As Requested!

Confetti Cake with Cotton Candy Frosting!

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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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Noah gasped and stumbled backwards, crashing into the desk and bruising his hip. The vibration surged through his nerves, up his spine, and worked its magic by loosening his limbs. He pursed full lips and whimpered, but the metal cage around his cock held firm. He must not cum. Noah heard a rustle outside the door and froze, then sighed in relief when it passed. This was technically his open office hours but the door was locked. If a student knocked, he’d eventually have to explain why he didn’t answer.

Another wave of vibration went through him. Noah put his fingers back near his pussy in some foggy headed attempt to control the power, to smooth the sweet ache. His Master knew exactly when he had time off between teaching classes and had set the vibrator to go off at the opportunite moment. Just minutes before, Noah had received a text message instructing him to strip. To do this at work, with just a door between him and the school, was terrifying and thrilling.

A soft moan slipped past his lips. He hated chastity cages, but his Master had put him into one as he dressed his pet this morning. He also bent him over and slid a vibrating bullet up his freshly washed ass. Noah’s Master wanted him to feel that grip around his cock the entire morning, so by the time that vibrator kicked in he was going to be drowning in lust.

Part of him wanted to rip that cage off and masturbate furiously. The other half of him, the half that won, clutched the desk and repeated to himself over and over: be good. Soon, that first part of him would be gone. This is what his Master wanted; it pleased him to know he could control his boy from afar. Noah hoped one day the training collar he wore at home would be replaced by a real collar. That would never happen if he couldn’t surrender his body’s sex drive to his Master’s hands. Noah had heard so many wonderful rumors about anal sex, hands-free orgasms, and the effects of temporary denial, but they all required another man – a superior man with a superior cock to wean him off his addiction to self pleasure.

Noan’s trapped cock leaked long strings of pre-cum. A shudder went through him as light orgasm rippled outwards from his prostate. He covered his mouth to quiet a groan. Something was happening, building, building, building. His cock felt like it was going to explode out of its restraint any second. He clenched his ass cheeks together, which made the vibrations ten times more amazing. It felt wonderful. It was coming, it was almost here, any second-! …And then it stopped.

“No!” he gasped, panting. “Noo….fuck I wanna cum, oh god Sir let me cum please,” he begged, but no one was there. Noah let out a frustrated sob. His cock was almost purple, and there was a puddle on the floor. Then, his phone rang. He dove for it.

On the other line, his Master chuckled. “Let me hear how horny you are boy.”
“Please Sir, please, turn the vibration back on, please I was so close, I was so. close. to having an anal orgasm please, oh god. I’m so horny, the room is spinning. Holy shit.”
“No…it will stay off.”
Noah whined in a loud, petulant way.
“I want that bullet nudging your prostate through-out the afternoon. We are having an early dinner with a bunch of other Masters and I intend to fuck you over the table for dessert. I want them to see your helpless trapped cock and all the mess you’ve made in your underwear. Is it damp?”
“Very Sir,” he leaned against the desk to catch his breath. “There is so much precum on the floor. uugh I want to jerk off so badly!”
“But you won’t.”
A helpless, frustrated noise passed his lips. “No. No I won’t Sir. I’m going to be good, just…very horny.”
“Yes,” he exhaled, “That’s what I want. Good slave. Now, take a picture of all the mess you made and send it to me. Then, clean it up, and get dressed. You have class in forty minutes and you have to eat and be presentable.

Noah replied with a submissive "Yes Sir”. They chatted a little longer and hung up. Noah set the phone down on the table and heaved a sigh of major frustration. The urge to climax was fading but he was hornier than ever. He wrapped his hands around his cock and felt nothing but the metal.
“Fuck.” He couldn’t. He couldn’t cum. His hand dipped to cup his balls; they were hot and swollen. The old part of Noah should have been somewhat humiliated at the idea of being fucked over a table in front of a bunch of Master’s friends, but now he couldn’t wait. His Master would be so pleased with his body and it would feel so very, very good.

Teaching the afternoon class on astrophysics was going to be a challenge, though. Maybe in 40 minutes the blush would have faded from his cheek and the pre-cum would stop dripping. 

Noah reached for his underwear. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

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Text is fictional. Source unknown.

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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.