A teaching collar otherwise known as a behaviour modification tool.
“I know chastity has been difficult for you, but you need to stop humping the mailman’s leg in pup mode. I am getting the weirdest letters from the US Postal Service. Hopefully this will correct your behavior.”
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Text is fictional.
Making sure your slave waits for you like a good boy. He hasn’t earned the privilege of being unsecured your home yet, so he’s kept in the bathroom like a good pet until you return. Lucky for him the bathmat is soft and he can get in a good nap, which will help pass the time and leave him well rested for his Master’s affection when he returns.
One might pity the boy, left there, probably bored, but the slave is grateful. After years of rough living in the projects, in foster care, on the streets, with gangs…this quiet type of peace is what he craves most of all. And knowing someone is eager to come home to see him? It’s the cherry on the cake of the life he’s always wanted and needs.
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Text is fictional.
The slave lifts its head. He hears footsteps coming up the creaky, wooden stairs. They’re heavy and boot-clad. Instinctively, the slave turns itself in the uncomfortable cage so that he’s on all fours, head down, eyes down. The boots stop at the landing.
”Now that’s what I like to see,” booms a bass voice. The man walks forward. The slave startles a little when a big hand smacks the top of the cage.
”I figgered you had enough time up here, boy. I just want to make clear what happens if you disobey me. I don’t go right for the whip. Instead, I put you up in the Cage, up here, in the dark even during the brightest days, where it’s drafty and the mice run ‘round. And you will still stay here until your attitude changes. I find that’s the best deterrent to loose behavior ‘round here. The other slaves will tell you as much. How long you think you were in there boy? Permission to speak.”
The slave works its dry mouth. “Thank you, Sir. An hour…? An hour and a half maybe?”
The man gave hoarse chuckle. “Try twenty-five minutes.”
The slave was silent.
“Now you get it. You gonna be a good boy, Sir?”
”I’m going to be a very good boy, I promise!”
”That’s what I like to hear. Now let’s get you watered and washed off. I want to inspect you. Damn slavetraders always try and cover up pro’lems with dirt.”
”Thank you for the lesson, Sir.”
”Attaboy now. N by the way, your new name is Blue. You’ll meet Red, Yellow, and Green later.”
Blue tries not to smile. First time he had a name he actually liked. “Thank you for the name, Sir.”
”You’re pretty docile, for a slave. You should teach Green some things. Boys back is always covered with stripes.”
“If you’d like me to, Sir.”
The new Master just nods. He unlocks the cage and instructs Blue to come out. Blue stands, awkwardly. His Master gives him a hand with his numb limbs and pulls him to full height. Blue keeps his eyes on the floor, but his Master cups his jaw in a frighteningly-strong hand and forces him to meet His gaze. Blue feels a knot form in his stomach when he sees his Master’s firm, grey gaze staring back at him.
“Welcome to the farm, boy. Work right, this might be your forever home.”
Blue can’t bear it any longer and drops his gaze. He tries not to give away just how hopeful he was for that to be true, though. He hated being transported and auctions gave him anxiety. He internally resolves to putting all his energy into pleasing his new Master.
“I will aspire to it, Sir.”
“Atta boy.”
The Master places his paw over the back of the boy’s neck. Alright now, let’s go get you situated and collared.”
Blue happily goes along like a tame lamb.
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Text is fictional. Source below:
“I"m going to be a very good boy. I promise!."
This is a new shot.
model: Tyy M
Learning how to stay in a cage for long periods of time.
It takes a tough Master to not give in to that pouting puppy face.
Nice to see a hot leather boys learning good discipline – especially when it’s happening in Los Angeles, in my own backyard.
Your slave boy was pulling the delicate laundry hanging to dry on the balcony. You were watching him though, the way the sun rays and shadows were playing off your boy’s nude body. The morning urge came out of hiding easily. You pinned him against the railing and took what you wanted from him, with your mouth and your cock. It doesn’t matter how humiliated he might have felt, being fucked with all those people milling about publicly below. It was up to him to be quiet and focus on pleasing his Master. It was your loud grunt when you came in him though that got some people to look up. You could feel your boy blush all over, but he kept his eyes ahead. It was not his job to question if his Master wanted the neighborhood to know he was owned slavemeat. When it was over, he thanked his Master for the sex, and continued on with the laundry, hole dripping until his Man plugged him.
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Text is fictional.
Being collared will set you free. I could recall the sign word for word, as I saw it often hanging over the door of His dungeon. I pondered the phrase, initially thinking it was a contradiction. How could being owned and being collared result in any type of freedom? The more he trained me and sculpted me, emotionally breaking me down and working me back up to a stronger, more obedient boy, I began to see the genius in my Master.
I began to see, like the difference between the grass and the sky, that some men were naturally born to dominate and lead where was others were not. There was no situation my Master could not handle with grace and his own charm; there was nothing he couldn’t fix with a certain facial expression and corresponding body posture; there was no mystery in life he had not pondered and solved. I felt mentally weak and inferior to his brilliance, in awe of the clarity in which he saw the world. With his training I gained manners, then I learned to check my pride and my ego. Just because I was a male, it did not mean things were owed to me. My Master taught me this, and a great deal more things, and through pain and love, helped me gain a stronger foothold in life. A deeper, appreciation, so to speak, for things I could change and the things I had to accept as is.
One of those things, was that He would always be a superior and an alpha in my life, even though we were cut from the same a template of the same bone and muscles. In my early years, I found him aggravating and his opinions frustrating, but now there was only an odd sort of peace in being content with my status. I had an open window to his knowledge. I often felt deep reassurance in knowing he would always be there to keep me in check, to keep me on a straight path, and to discipline me when I had faulted. I could always ask him for advice. I pitied those who were left to discipline themselves.
I tore my eyes away from the handsome black and silver collar in his manicured, outstretched hand, and looked beyond it to my Master’s hopeful face. My silence had perplexed and worried him. I could read his expressions like an open book these days.
I cupped the soft leathery collar in my hands and knelt, offering it back up to him. My Master stepped forward – I could hear the creak of his leather pants – and took it out of my palms. I felt his fingers unhitch the silver chain around my neck – my training collar. My neck felt light without it. The buckle jingled as He handled it, then He wrapped the real collar around my neck. I bowed my head as it was fixed in place. Even after one second, it felt as if it had been there all my life.
“Lift your head,” my Master said.
“I did.”
He smiled, looking dazzling. “Look at that.” I was surprised to detect a bit of emotion in his voice.
I raised my hand and felt the material around my neck. I couldn’t wait to see it in a mirror.
“Thank you Sir,” I said, “Thank you for this fine gift, and for allowing me to serve under you.” My Master nodded, then to my surprise, he responded: “Thank you for being a fine pupil. I saw enormous potential in you, but I am surprised you gave me the honor of staying with me and allowing me to teach you for so long. There were so many times I was sure your machismo would get in the way and you would break. You have exceeded all my expectations.”
At that moment, my throat was so tight, I couldn’t say a word or even cry.
“Merry Christmas, boy,” He said.
I broke my form. I leapt to my feet and embraced him in a huge hug. To my relief, he crushed me back instead of chiding me for it. I was shocked to feel a sob go through him. “God, I love you,” he whispered in my ear, barely audible. I wanted to tell him the same words back, but “I love you” did not seem to convey enough the adoration I felt for him. Instead, I said, “I will always be yours.”
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Text is fictional. Cannot believe I forgot to post this yesterday. It had been sitting in drafts since November.
“Check this out. My friend did a filter thing on it. Cool pic huh?”
“Jesus, Sam, ya fat bastard, look at ya! You’re a stud!”
I laughed. “Alpha male, I tell ya. It’s one of my favorite shots. Just me and my boys.”
“Why is the dog in front?”
“Well, he’s better trained and better bred. He’s got papers. The slave back there I just took in – he’s a Latin mutt. Last Master turned him in due to overcrowding. Badly trained and growly. I put him in his place in those first three days I’ll tell you what,” I laughed again. “You see how resigned he looks?”
“Ya?”
“Cause he knows he’s under the dog.”
“Aaaahhh.”
“It’ll be good for him. Already showing some improvement already. He’s food fixated, so if you promise him food, he’ll do almost anything. Yep, he’s a good boy. Love him already.”
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Text is fictional.
That moment when you feel Sir’s cock hard-on inside your mouth, he puts his hand on your head and tells you you’re a good boy.
Even if his erection is in your mouth, you don’t dare start to orally pleasure him without the command. Perhaps He simply wishes to remind you of your place to Him. It is not your duty to assume your Master’s intent. Contentment floods through as you hear his praise: good boy. You live for those words and will not prove him wrong. The fear of disappointing him is worse than any punishment He could imagine.
2 weeks 2 days and counting..1 week 5 days and counting…
When Sir travels it’s tough. He isn’t just heading to another town he is continents or countries away. This time is different this time he left me wearing his collar and with my cock locked away. Technology means we are in contact but it doesn’t change the distance and the lack of physical contact.
Work can’t fill the space, gym is only a minor distraction its like part of me is in a holding pattern.
Sometimes I wonder if Masters’ understand the level of disconnect subs and slaves feel?
This slave is lucky because Master knows. When he travels he leaves me tasks to complete take care of his boots, sort out the play equipment, a schedule for gym, working naked and collard.
None of it is big stuff but it helps me keep my head on straight it reminds me of his care.
The tasks help but they cant get me over the building sexual need. A few days are easy, week not so much, 2 weeks and I’m crawling the walls. This time I’m locked even if I wanted to and he had given permission I cant cum. It has created a roller coaster of emotions.
Some days its a slow burn, others a burning ache, now I drip when he sends a message. My cock throbs and my cunt twitches at even the simplest sexual thought. He knows and winds me up even more when we chat online. What is funny when he is in town becomes torture when he is away. He talks about what he will do when he gets back, he lets me tell him about the pictures in my head.
The truth is I could go online and hook up take care of the physical need. I could but I won’t.
Once the choice was made I knew control of my sexual expression was no longer mine. The choice was made freely and with full understanding of the reality his career imposed. Being locked added to his control.
A consequence of the choice is that for now I suffer. Master can get sexual release knowing I can’t, he can experience his power and control over the miles.
This reality is far harder than I ever imagined. First he allows me to re-engage my deepest sexual needs, then he teaches me how they can be met in service to him, after what seems an age he collared me then just when I have settled he ups and goes for a month.
He said I would “learn my place” its hard to know that you are not the first priority. It goes against the messages that our culture sends us. He said he would become the center of my sexual life and he has.
Submission is not for sissies, its hard work every day. He is the single most important relationship in my life, he gets to set the rules, I mold my needs to his.
None of this changes when he travels his control might be remote but it is as concrete and complete as if he was sitting in front of me as I’m writing.
For now I will deal with crashing hormones and emotional swings. I will look after my tasks and communicate when we can. I will spend my night imagining what he is doing and dream of how this slave will show it’s devotion when he gets back.
Because he is Master and I am slave.
The slave learns that the night of relief that will follow when his Master returns will be worth all the waiting. His Master will use his body and obtain pleasure from his slave, and in return the slave will benefit from his Master’s happiness to his obedience.
There was a time I was a 24/7 slave to a Master. It was both a fantastic and not-so-fantastic experience. However, I am happy that I got to experience it.
I was told to tell some of my experiences .. and, I have told them on my old Blogger which has since been deleted. Some of you who knew me back then will be familiar with these adventures. And bear with me if they don’t quite sound the same as, being an old fart, as time and my memory have obscured some detail.
When I was being considered as a slave by this Master he interviewed me in depth, viewed my blogs and my xtube and took my desires to heart. One of the things that I had always wanted was to be whored out. For me, it was the ultimate submission … told be told by my Master that I was required to have sex with someone regardless that I knew him or not, that I was attracted to him or not and regardless as to my feelings in general. ”This is the man you are going to serve.”
While living as a 24/7 I was never to wear clothing, just my slave gear (cuffs, collar, chastity device) unless I was to good outside for laundry, garbage, shopping, etc. Then I was to be shirtless.
There was a friend and neighbor of my Master who knew of His status and my status. One day, this man, Mike, knocked on the door. As always, I was required to answer the door in my slave attire. Mike asked to speak with my Master. I let him in and went back to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner.
Several minutes later, I let Mike out and served Master dinner. While I was cleaning the kitchen Master announces, “Mike is coming over later to fuck you. You should go get ready.” I was shocked and scared and weirded out even though it is something I had always wanted.
When Mike came over, they discussed price. Master turned to me and said “You’d better do a good job. I want extra cash for when we go to Vegas.” The price would be dependent on my performance as a whore.
We went to what Master called the “slave bedroom.” The Master bedroom was reserved just for Him and I. Any group activities or other slaves he brought home were played with in the other room. Mike fucked me ravenously hard and deep several times using up 4 condoms in the process. Master kept coming in to check on my performance or curious about a particularly loud moan, groan or yelp from me.
Afterwards, I was made to kneel at Master’s feet as money changed hands. After Mike left Master said, “You did good. Now I am going to give you your reward.” He unzipped his pants and proceeded to fuck my face til he blew his load down my throat.
After that night, Mike came over every Monday morning for a fuck on his way to work and paid Master every time.
Even though I am much older and a bit larger than I was then, I still have this desire. Why? I have no clue. Do I like the fact that I am giving myself to my Master? Do I like the fact I am being made a whore? Or is it simply that my nature is to give my body to men for their sexual pleasure and this serves this desire for me?
“Or is it simply that my nature is to give my body to men for their sexual pleasure and this serves this desire for me?” Yes. Don’t think too much on it, acceptance will bring happiness.