Outrun the light.
(This is dancer Fin Tuomo Railo. HIs Twitter is here.)
Tag: male nudity
A good, hard spanking will realign any errant behavior – but nothing drives that lesson home faster than a sharp strike to the balls. It’s also a good reminder for the boi why he must be naked when he’s over your lap, so every part of his body is available to receive punishment. Every ounce of him must learn these lessons, not just so he can serve men better, but so he remains disciplined and focused in every aspect of his life. Even when the tears collecting on his eyelashes dries up, the flesh stops stinging, and the bruising fades, the humility he feels will last a lifetime.
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Text is fictional. Source is …eh, porn probably.
“What is your houseboy doing?” Reginald asks, twisting in his patio chair to get a look at the source of the sound of someone making loud raspberries.
I crane my neck to find Oren through the guests mingling in my spacious backyard. “…I have no idea. Whatever it is, it’s not what he’s supposed to be doing. He knows better, what on Earth is he up to?”
Will, who is standing off to the side behind Reginald starts snickering, then as he watches Oren dissolves into laughter.
“What is so funny Will?” Reginald insists. “You know something don’t you? …You do! What is it?”
“Will, what did you do my boy?” I rise from my chair.
It takes Will a few moments to compose himself, because every time he looks at me he loses it again. I’m about to throw a shoe at him when he finally spits it out. “I gave him one of the pot brownies! The strong ones, that Linda made for your brother.”
Color rises in my face. “What? What? You DRUGGED him?” Reginald rushes to his feet to keep me from punching Will. “YOU DRUGGED Oren? You asshole. Those weren’t your brownies, those were for Dean! And you gave him drugs for the first time without any supervision, and you violated the rule of not feeding him! I told you he’s hypoglycemic – sweets have to be – ..why am I talking to you about this? You have 30 seconds to leave my property of you will be escorted off.”
I turn my back to him and rush over to Oren. It’s quite obvious he’s gotten something in his system – the dopey look on his face, the vague sheen to his eyes. “Hey Sir.” He drawls. “Look how green this is…it’s like really green. And it vibrates when I do this.” He blows a raspberry on it again. “Pretty cool,” he giggles.
A couple guests stare. I gently work the balloon from his fingers and sigh. “Oren, did you eat a brownie?”
He looks confused, and shuffles his feet. “Will said you wanted me to eat it, Sir. Said you said to keep my blood sugar up.”
“Will is a lying bastard, and those brownies had pot in them.”
“Ohh…that explains why I feel weird.” He pokes the balloon in my hands and starts giggling.
“Are you going to faint?”
Oren doesn’t answer, he just keeps petting the balloon.
Reginald chimes in. “He’s bloody useless.”
“Great,” I sigh. “My houseboy is high, and there is no one to watch my guests.”
Reginald puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I’ll take care of them, make sure everyone is watered and the trash is cleared. You take care of Oren.”
I give him a grateful look. “Many thanks Reginald. Is Will gone?”
He glances around. “Yes. That bastard. I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have invited him.”
“You can’t always know how people will act, Reg, don’t worry. I’m just…concerned, mostly. Alright, Oren, come with me.”
“But,….it’s so pretty out here.”
I take a deep breath and count to 3. Apparently being high has made him completely disregard all his training. I’m both furious at being disrespected and irritated because it’s not entirely his fault. “Ok, why don’t I take you around to the garden and have you rest in the hammock?”
“Ooo….hammock.”
He’s allowed to nap there when he’s good, but the rules are moot now – I just need him to cooperate. I get him some water, and to my relief, he allows me to escort him away from the party and to somewhere more quiet.
When I come back, I’m deeply relieved to see Reginald making nice with everyone and the catering tables look flawless. I host questions from concerned guests for several minutes before I have another moment alone with Reginald.
“Is he alright?” my best friend inquires.
“Yes, just napping, thankfully. Thank you so much for covering, Reg, I really appreciate it.”
“Not a problem at all. Least I can do.”
He hands me a glass of lemonade and I sip it. “…It’s kind of funny though isn’t it?” I chuckle.
“Oh my god, when he was blowing raspberries on the balloon I was trying so hard not to lose it,” Reginald admits.
I can’t help but smile about this silliness now that the anger has passed. “You missed that when I got him into the hammock, I wouldn’t give him the balloon back at first and he said to me – ‘Dude, why you hating on my balloon?’ in this super indignant voice.”
Reginald covers his face with one hand and cracks up. “Oh god, I’m never going to look at Oren straight-faced again!”
“YOU?” I gasp. His laughter is contagious and I’m catching up. “Tomorrow I have to explained to a very disciplined and soon to be very horrified houseboy that he nearly left me for a balloon – and he called his Sir ‘dude’.”
We both dissolve into hysterics and have to sit down in the patio chairs again to recover.
When Oren emerged from the gardens later after the party ended, Reginald and I sat with him on the grass and fed him munchies off paper plates. In the end, I wasn’t able to bring myself to punish Oren. We figured that Oren’s eventual embarrassment toward his behavior was punishment enough – and it was. I still tease him about calling me ‘dude’ though, which makes him squirm in the most adorable way.
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Text is fictional. Photographs by Richard Rothstein. More from the set here.
When my Sir – I call him Sir because I respect him – comes home from working hard all day, I feel it is my obligation to guide him to back to sanity. He works in the emergency room of our county hospital, dealing with things I can’t even begin to imagine. Home is his sanctuary, so it’s inconsiderate to bother him immediately with annoying things from my day or to pester him helplessly that I’m hungry. I take initiative around here. I make dinner and keep the house clean so all he has to do is come through the door, accept his plate and his glass of wine, undo his tie, and sink into his favorite chair.
I’ll often rub his shoulders or his feet as well. Sometimes, when he’s finished he sets the tray aside, leans back, and undoes his pants for me. I take the hint immediately and blow him for dessert.
I know my Sir. I can tell by the tone of voice when he calls me, or texts me, that sometimes he needs something more than just being spoiled during dinner.
He’ll come home, exhausted after a brutal shift, headachy from florescent lights and a belly full of greasy cafeteria pizza and energy drinks. He’ll climb the stairs like it’s Mt. Everest, dragging his feet. The look of sheer appreciation when he comes through our bedroom door and finds me spread open and anticipating his cock makes my crazy happy. He just groans, so grateful I read his mind. My ass is his, my balls are full for him, all he has to do is grab the lube and bury his meat between the cleft of my ass. Instant stress relief, just insert tab a into slot b. He’ll pound out all his frustrations and failures of the day away and shoot the negative energy out into a condom. I always discard it with a smirk.
Yup, I definitely know what my Sir needs and desires. They say he has the lowest fatality rate in his ER, despite how over-worked and fatigued he often gets. His co-workers think of him as a god-like figure, the master of the crash cart, the wizard of intubation. Let them wonder. I’m sure they’d be surprised to know that it is a naked boy who aurifies Dr. Ashcroft’s talent for medicine.
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Text is fictional. Source is an original photo by inside-the-wardrobe. I have notified him that I am using his photo for a caption.
This slave isn’t scared of milking machines, getting the strap, e-stim devices, long chastity, or serving 10 men at once… but at any utterance of the word “dentist”, all his training gets defenestrated and he’s pulling on his leash to stay in the house. His Master couldn’t just let his slave have bad teeth, so he came up with a creative solution.
The slave is bound to a metal support rail so he can safely sedated. A spider gag is put into place, as well as a chastity cage. Once the tranquilizer has kicked in, then the slave is transferred to the dentist’s office in a crate in his master’s car. Long after most of the staff have gone home, the dentist lets them in through the back. The slave is then bound to the exam room chair like this, naked and gagged, because it’s the only way Dr. Singh can finally get in there and clean those teeth.
Any cavities will be seen as negligence of his Master’s property and will result in a spanking for the slave, but usually the boy keeps up with flossing and brushing. All that fighting and planning is usually for nothing but a mere cleaning!
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Text is fictional. Picture obviously comes from the infamous boundgods.com.
“No, stop. Don’t go after them, Kelton. They’re mountain sirens – or as we like to call them in my village, hill whores. That’s not their real forms. They’re illusions. For years this was a place men would sneak off to seek pleasure in other men, and they would watch, and copy their faces, their actions. They’re not real, boy. They’re demons. You go off with them, they’ll hypnotize you with lust, distract you with their holes, and their cocks.”
“…Is that really a bad thing?” he asks.
“Well, you won’t notice it at the time but they’ll drain you of your sexual energy. All of it. You’ll never get it back. You’ll never produce another healthy sperm again, your cock will never get hard again. You’ll never penetrate another living thing and enjoy it.” I watch him pale.
“…We should move on then.”
“Yes, we should. In a couple hours, we’ll be at a town, there will be a brothel, you can find a boy for the night there.”
Kelton eyes them, then looks at me. “How will I know he’s not a siren too?”
“Oh that’s easy,” I say, chewing on a piece of jerky, “Hill whores don’t leave the hills, they hate being under a roof, and they hate rotten fruit, which is why I’ve been carrying this lemon with me the entire day.” I lob it at them. The demons hiss and scatter over the ridge.
“See? Off they go.”
Kelton grabs my sleeve. “Come on let’s keep moving. This whole place creeps me out.”
“The world is a scary place, my friend. Don’t worry, by nightfall you’ll be screwing your brains out a happy man and you’ll have forgotten all about this.”
“I sure as fucking hope so. One of them looked like my brother.”
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Text is obviously fictional. Was unable to locate source of photo.
I texted him first: Hey – did you mean what you said on the profile? ‘Dinner and a Dominant Man wanted?’
Andre: Hells yes I did 😉 Sooo sick of cafeteria food here at the dorms. I miss home cooked food, and I need a hard fucking to get all this tension out of my muscles from studying for mid-terms. If you bring me food, I’ll put out for you all night long!
I stared at the response. Either sluts are getting younger and bolder or he was an extremely clever whore who had snuck into a college dorm. I pondered this.
Me: Well, I can take control in the bedroom if you want. But if you’re really a student at Rojo U, then send school ID and driver’s license so I know you’re not jailbait.
Andre: Mmm if I do, what are you gonna make me for dinner? I saw ur profile pic, you’re damn delicious looking on your own but a boy has to eat.
I actually scoffed. I wonder how often this worked for him. Me: Well, I hunt in the winter, so I got venison steak, I can make a mushroom risotto, and maybe a rainbow chard/baby green salad with raspberry vinaigrette?
The response came within minutes.
Andre: O.M.G. I am absolutely drooling, that sounds so fucking good. I can be dessert ;). Here are my IDs babe. Last name edited out, but u can see my birthday and my school! Rojo pride!
I opened the images. He was a cutie, and legal indeed at 20. Still 9 years my junior but hey, if the way into his pants was through his stomach I might just be game.
Me: Thanks for sending that over fast. Yep, you’re def who you say you are. But… I’m 29, I’m not sure I should still be sleeping with college boys. Probably should be with real men my age. What do you think? I was playing him, yes, but I had a feeling he’d know it and love it.
I wasn’t expecting another text image of the brunet posing in a public dorm bathroom with a proud boner jutting out from plump balls at a 45 degree angle. He had flat, rippled abs and a defined iliac crest – my weakness. My cock began to rise the longer I stared at that photo. I could split him in half and make his whole floor hear him being rammed. Or, he could spend the night here. I had a feeling he’d love it either way.
Andre sent a text to go with it: You want this? 😉
My cock took over for me: Fuck yeah I do. You want a dominant man? I will teach you what it’s like to be fucked by a man and not a boy. You want to feel a big cock sliding in and out of you, bringing you to ecstasy, making you beg for more?
Andre: Fuck yeah I do, babe. When can you come over? I’m sitting in my dorm room playing with myself, so horny!
Me: I need time to make the meal, defrost the steak. Come over tomorrow night ok? I’ll bring condoms.
Andre: Tomorrow?? But I’m horny now! :((
I raised an eyebrow. Goodness, how long has it been since he’d had a dick?
Me: I know slutty boys always have a favorite toy. Why don’t you play with it and send me some pictures.
Andre: Grrr so horny! Fine, I’ll do that – but you better be amazing!
I text him back a photo of my own engorged cock with my fist around it to show off its size. Me: Be good, you’ll get this after dinner.
Andre: Madre de dios *____*
I had to laugh. He was so silly, a twinky little college boy and a big nelly bottom. He sent me some sexy, shameless photos of him naked and fucking himself with an impressive dildo; I enjoyed jacking off to them.
The next day I tidied the house and whipped up a good meal. After Andre came over, we wasted no time giving eachother hand jobs and kissing in the kitchen. He was so small compared to me, and the way my large hands looked roaming over his genitals drove me absolutely wild. It was a struggle to break away from his sweet mouth for dinner.
We somehow managed to eat like civil people. We even managed small talk and kept clothes on from the salad to coffee. When the last dish went into the dishwasher though, I looked up and saw the way Andre was looking at me. That’s when I knew I’d fed the machine of lust in him and given him plenty of energy to burn on his back, legs in the air, bent over furniture, anyway I could do him. And trust me, I fucked his brains out in nearly every room in my house, including the shower. Boy simply could not get enough of my meat in his ass, even when he ran out of cum. Around 3 am, I tucked an exhausted, wobbly legged twink with a stretched hole into bed and cuddled up next to him.
I woke up to him humping me at 8 am and begging for permission to ride me. I began to wonder if he’d taken a drug, but he claimed he hadn’t. He said he was just…pent up. Well, I couldn’t say no. I let him ride me until his toes curled and he came all over my chest.
Andre never really left. He goes to school still, handles the chores, and puts out in exchange for a discount in rent. I’m the cook and the provider of cock, and he is happy as a harlot can be. Might just be a temporary thing while he’s in school, but damn is it nice to have a slut around the house.
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Text is fictional. Source is here, but that’s not the original source. The boy is Aiden Summers, twink extraordinaire of Helix Studios.
The stud’s cock wasn’t hard enough, so his Master decided to tenderize those balls until things were more up to His standards. He has friends coming over soon and it would look bad if he had a soft, uninterested slave boy strapped into place for nothing.
“You keep that dick up, boy, or else you’re getting the nipple clamps with spikes on em and electricity up your dick. You haven’t come in a couple days, shouldn’t be a problem for you. Don’t be nervous, now. My friends are good men and experienced Masters. They will take such excellent care of your horny, naked body while I’m at my little sister’s birthday party.”
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Text is fictional. The video is Back Alley; the dom is Felix Barca; the sub is Race Cooper. Just a warning though before you click the link to the trailer – it’s a fisting video.