Wasting no time in claiming his reward…
Tag: Master/Slave
Owned dog – bound, collared, cock caged, and whipped, the pride of his Master. This photograph is going to hang right above the stairs so everyone can see it when they come into His home.
(Anyone have a source on this?)
I gazed at the tangle of Christmas lights in the plastic storage box and sighed. It was a box of bad memories. I’d shoved them in there in a furious rage after Craig broke up with me on Christmas Eve. I’d never felt more shame in my life as I did returning the watch I got him, the box still wrapped in nice paper. I swore I was done with boyfriends and lost myself in the world in BDSM where I had all the control. It probably wasn’t healthy, but it was there I met Jasper. I had played with a variety of men and boys, but it was only with Jasper I was able to feel relaxed after our sessions. He healed me. I needed him, and he asked to be exclusive to me.
A couple months ago, I invited him to sign a contract and move in with me. When we were discussing the details, Jasper insisted he didn’t care about his birthday so much but he wanted to celebrate Christmas and be able to give me gifts. Jasper was insane for Christmas – he baked a million cookies, built a gingerbread sex dungeon (which I admittedly thought was hilarious), and decorated our Christmas tree and outside trees in everything from tinsel to ornaments to popcorn garlands to clementines with cloves stuck in them.
When I hadn’t put up the lights two weeks before Christmas, Jasper began to complain. I gave him a light spanking for whining, but he had a point. The lights had not gone up. So with his bottom still pink, I hauled the box out of the closet and peeled off the lid. It was a rat’s nest. I sighed again as Craig’s memories washed over me. The doorbell rang. “Jasper, untangle this mess,” I instructed and went to see who it was.
“Yes sir, right away.”
It was my neighbor holding some mail with my name on it. We had a similar, hard to pronounce and spell Polish last name and our house numbers were two numbers off, so the mailman often confused us. I fetched mail I’d been holding for him and returned it as well. We had a little talk about his pregnant daughter, then he waved goodbye and I went back into the house.
I walked back toward the living room wondering why the lights were off, but then I saw Jasper and froze right in my spot in the dining room. Jasper had weaved the lights around his body and plugged them in to test the bulbs, illuminating his naked body in colorful spots of light. The ends were bunched in his hand over his cock, somehow making it more erotic than if he was actually naked.
I just looked at him, “What are on Earth are you doing, boy?”
“Well Sir… I untangled them, but needed someway to wrap them, and came up with this. How do I look?”
My goodness, what a sight! “Like a human Christmas Tree. No don’t move. You stay there while I go get the camera. You’re going to be my Christmas card this year. If you move I’m gonna make you stand still in the window for three hours so the entire neighborhood can see you like that.”
“Yes sir.”
“I think you’d like that anyway, boy,” I muttered as I went to get my camera.
The cards were a huge hit in my BDSM community. I was surprised when Craig sent me a Christmas card apologizing for his behavior last year and told me he regretted how he treated me. I sent him one of Jasper’s back and said, “Thank you for you card Craig. Your apology meant a lot to me. However, it all worked out. If you hadn’t left me, I would have never met Jasper. Isn’t he beautiful? He lights up my life.”
A slave of my acquaintance, looking for a Master in Chicago. As you can see… well trained and pleasing to the eye. IF interested, message me privately.
What a sight! Beautiful slave. Hopefully he can find a good home soon.
Josef’s Master loves His boy a great deal, but His carpel tunnel syndrome prevents Him from administrating punishment deemed necessary when Josef screws up. So, he takes him to the most reputable belter in the city. Some of the richer clients prefer to have their slaves sent here once a month just to keep them in line, allow Them to keep some distance between pleasure and the dirty work.
This isn’t Josef’s first time here or his first spanking. The man with the belt always hides his face, but Josef makes it a priority to look him straight in the eye. It’s not because he wants to know when the strikes are coming, but because he wants that man to know he’s not afraid of him. Why should be be afraid of what’s best for him? Even his Master is kind enough to keep him hydrated and have His other boy pet his hair reassuringly during the ordeal. Josef feels more of a man that he can take the beating with only muffled noises and without tears. He even says “good bye” to the administrator of his pain, polite and friendly.
The other Masters wonder what the secret is to His boy’s training…they all try to sculpt their boys to such high standards of pride and joy.
I came out of the bathroom and he wasn’t in the room. A new tray was on the bed, the pot of mint tea steaming, along with two plates of fig cookies, puffed pastries, and candied violets. I went to investigate to see if he was on the balcony and there he was. If I had picked up a saucer and cup, I would have dropped it at the sight of him.
Those spindly legs went on for absolutely ever, melting into a pair of black stiletto heels he’d pilfered after my sister left them in the courtyard. He’s bent over at the waist, jutting out that small ass I enjoyed so much while he keened out underneath me. His back rolls like a sandbar on the seafloor. The masculine way his arms bulge with muscle contrasting with delicate ankles and such sexy footwear shortens my breath.
I pad over to him, not caring at all if my feet get dusty, and rub his buttocks. He motions to stand up but I keep him bent over and part his thighs with my hands. Even with his heels on, I’m tall enough to mount him and in one motion I’m inside him again, his ass still wet and lubricated from our last session. He starts to protest as I stretch his sore ring of muscle but I shush him. There are people milling in the courtyard below, so he’ll have to be quiet if no one is to hear us.
When our testicles are pressed together, I allow him a moment to adjust before I start up again while gripping his hips. I set a slow steady pace, in no great hurry to cum. He remains silent, squeezing the balcony to steady us as I thrust. It takes perhaps 15 minutes or so for my orgasm to build and then it washes it over me like spilled tea in the lap. I rest my cheek on his spine and roll my hips, ejaculating into his body. His breathing is ragged and he gasps when I pull out of him with a ‘pop’. My seed drips out of him and onto the back of the shoe. I walk backward a few steps and examine the scene I created. “Gods, you are beautiful.” I murmur. I make him stand like that, freshly used and leaking, while I drink my tea. It’s only when the bottom of the cup is visible that I allow him to go wash.
What story does this picture tell you?
Mmm my first reaction would be to say that the Sir on the left put his boy’s little nub in protection for his own safety, and that he wanted to have a picture for him to commemorate the day it became permanent. However, I noticed that the erect boy is shaved too so maybe he’s not the Sir, but another sub. Perhaps this photo was taken by their keyholder as a comparison shot to show to other Sirs who are thinking of doing the same thing. Or maybe…I got it, it’s a photo to show the two states of male slaves available at a popular BDSM club. Either way, I’m willing to bet that the locked boy dropped to his knees afterwards and serviced that erection until someone pulled him off of it.