Tag: slave boy

by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

vallentiro14:

Hugo thumbed through photos on his phone. “This one is my favorite so far.”
Arturo let out a low whistle. “He is stunning. That ass is begging for stripes.”
“Oh I’ve put them there. The aftercare was almost as good as the session, he was so soft and warm in my lap, I didn’t want to stop cuddling him. To say I’m very excited for Luis to be here is an understatement.”
“Paperwork is complete?”
“Indeed it is. My insurance goes into effect into Monday, so that’s when I can go pick him up from Everton.”
Arturo tilted Hugo’s phone so he could see the screen. “Where do they find boys this beautiful? Every boy I know that comes out of Everton’s looks like a model.”
Hugo chuckled. “That’s cause you don’t see them going in.” He thumbed to another picture of Luis looking coyly in the camera. “This beautiful lad spent most of high school in juvie, he’s been arrested in two states, and got in trouble for selling himself in jail and not paying taxes on his earnings. He also had a warrant out for his arrest in his home county for not paying a parking ticket.”
Arturo nearly spilled his wine as he threw his head back and laughed. “Are you serious?”
“Indeed. I got that pesky warrant taken care of of course.”
“My goodness, what a hellion.”
Hugo nodded. “He is spicy. Perhaps a bit too spicy. Luis desperately needs to be taught discipline.”

Arturo sipped his wine. “That may be so, but…what about your family business?”
Hugo shrugged. “I imagine he’ll end up in it one way or the other; Luis has potential to make a nice career for himself, but he could be a real liability.” He smirked. “It seems that Luis doesn’t often consider the consequences of his actions, or the risks he’s taking. It’ll be fun teaching him to consider those things. And rewarding him, long and hard into, into the sheets, all night long.”
Arturo chuckled. “You are impatient for him to get here.”
Hugo exhaled. “So very impatient.”

“Your talk of discipline has gotten me a bit aroused. Why don’t we go upstairs and pass some time?”
The corner of Hugo’s mouth lifted up. “Like old times?”
“Like old times. Well, I had less grey hair back then,” Arturo muttered.
“I like your grey hair.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s sexy,” Hugo brushed his bangs with his fingers.
“You are such a good friend. Do you have more wine by the way?” Arturo held up his empty glass.
“Always.” Hugo put an arm around Arturo’s waist. “Let’s go get drunk and fuck until Monday comes.”
“Cheers to that!”

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Captions are fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

The duel was over. Centrus had won. He sheathed his sword and strode up to the slave bound to a pole. Behind him, the healers were tending to his opponent left bleeding in the ring on the floor. Centrus still wondered if not killing that asshole was the right thing to do, considering he’d bribed a judge and robbed Centrus out of what was rightfully his – but at least now people thought he himself was merciful. And a lot of people had been there. Not everyday a warrior challenges another over the ownership of a slave. Usually it’s over a woman of high standing or something. Centrus the Merciful, Challenger of Slaves, had a certain ring to it anyhow.

Centrus paused in front of his new property and lifted the trembling boy’s chin with his thumb. “Don’t panic, little one. You’re safe now, because you are mine. I won’t neuter you, which is illegal anyway. I won’t whip you. I won’t starve you. When I sheath my cock in you, it won’t cause you any pain. Only the sweetest pleasure. You should be happy little one, as you have been spared from cruelty.”
The slave began to weep and Centrus clucked. He ordered the naked boy taken down so he could carry him back to his chariot. It was time to take home his prize and clean him up and see what was under all of that dirt.

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Captions are fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

An indentured man heads toward the exit of the barn after performing his morning chores. The horses are nose-deep in their oats and hay. The bay mare and her colt are doing fine. The stalls were mucked. Water changed. The pigs are waking up and wandering toward their outdoor pen. The man turns his head and greets a barn cat dozing on a stall partition. He pauses to give the cat a few pets and a scritch behind the ears, murmuring what a good girl she is. Moxy is their best mouser, and keeps the barn free of infestation. Moxy begins to lick her paws, so the man continues on his way.

Next job is to first wash his hands, then go collect eggs from the henhouse and rouse all the chickens. The eggs will be brought to the main house for breakfast. His stomach grumbles at the thought of breakfast. Breakfast is his favorite meal. There was never enough breakfast left in the foster home he grew up in, and most of his memories of school were waiting out hunger until subsidized lunches were available.

He pauses at the barn entrance and looks back. It still feels weird to him to live out here in the country, to be trusted with these animals, to not see miles and miles of concrete and brick and cars. To hear the grass move in the wind instead of horns and feet on sidewalks. In a funny way, he reckons that getting caught after committing that string of ATM thefts was the best thing that ever happened to him.
Back in the city, the gang he was in was obsessed with territory, power, and money. Well, out here, the man had his own territory. Power, not so much. Money, not so much. Small government stipend in the bank every month. But territory… this is his place. This is his barn. The loft is his bed.The man smiles. Not too shabby.

He glances down at his naked form. Also, getting fit and ripped as hell was a pretty damn good unintended consequence too. A rooster crows loudly, reminding the man not to dilly-dally. He was generally left alone to supervise himself, but one step out of line and the ranch master would appear out of nowhere to put him back in it with that awful whip curled at his side. The man crinkles his nose. Why ruin a fine morning that way? He walks over to the hen house and opens the wooden doors. Fluffy, brown and white chickens spill out to eat new bugs in the dirt, clucking and shaking their feathers.

“Hello ladies, good morning, good morning. Fine day isn’t it?

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Captions are fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

“Boy? Boy are you awake?”
“Mmmnnn. Yez-Zir.”
“Poor thing, you are so tuckered out from the demonstrations we did today. You were such a good boy today. Made me very proud.”
“I love you Sir. Anything for you Sir,” the slave murmured, leaning against his Master’s touch.
“I love you too boy. You are going to fall asleep in the tub if we leave you in here any longer. Give me the shampoo, I’m going to finish washing you.”
The slave flushed. Being washed by his Master sounded wonderful as it was rare. He handed his Master the bottle. Moments later, strong fingers began to massage his scalp. The reward was so lovely that the slave could not even articulate how happy he was, he just groaned. He fell asleep during rinsing, and did not remember a thing until he woke up the next morning in his Master’s bed.

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Captions are fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

bondcyberrole:

ooooooh….i’m dreaming…of a white christmas

It’s never a good sign when you wake up and your boy is missing on Christmas. You woke up before your alarm, which means your boy wasn’t scheduled to present by your side for a little while longer. Yet, you expected to hear him prattling around the kitchen, preparing a special breakfast, cocoa and coffee, and getting ready to open gifts. Your boy actually has presents under the tree – mostly things he can use to serve you better or things you will use on him, but still, boxes have his name on them. But he’s not here.

Where is he? You feel miffed and concerned. Where is your boy? You feel a breeze and notice the back door is ajar. You step forward to it, pulling your robe around you. What you see takes your breath away. Outside, in two feet of snow, your naked and vulnerable servant boy is standing up to his knees in soft powder. Flakes of it pepper his hair, and his face is turned skyward. You can’t believe it. It’s a white Christmas. 

You remember for a moment that you bought your boy from a dealer that had brought his stock up from Florida. Had the boy never seen snow? You never bothered to ask. You knew he was fascinated by autumn and relished the traditions of holiday seasons, but had had he never seen snow? Truly? 

You open the door. There’s a clear path where your boy cut a path through the deck and down to the yard. You jog to the mud room to fetch your boots and coat, and pull them on without really tying your laces or buttoing the fasteners. You’re worried your boy is going to get frostbite out there. You pull open the back door, and you’re cold all over. It’s freezing. You stumble to the edge of the porch. 
“Boy,” you call gently, not wanting to scare him. He doesn’t hear you. He sticks out his tongue, trying to catch a snowflake. You pull out your phone and snap a quick photo. In the zoom, you can see he’s trembling from here. You get an idea to get his attention. With numb fingers, you wad up a ball of snow and throw it at him. It hits him square in the back and he yelps.

You laugh. If that wasn’t funny, the way he’s staring at you in surprise is. 
“Come inside, you’re going to get frostbite on your toes.”
“I’m wearing my rain boots, Sir.”
“Still, this is no weather for a boy to be naked outside.” I say, throwing another snowball at him. He ducks.
“Coming Sir,” he replies, teeth chattering.
You shake your head and throw snowballs at him until he hurries up, but he’s laughing. When he’s on the deck, you turn your back to head back inside – and then a moment later you feel it, the impact of something wet and cold hitting the back of your jacket.

You whirl around.

You can’t believe it! Your boy just hit you with a snowball. His cheeks are red and he looks terrified as he is pleased with himself. Very sheepish.

I eye him. That was easily a spank-able offense. “You have good aim,” I say, feeling generous, then turn back inside. You hear him sigh in relief. 

When you get back inside, he is noticeably shivering. His cock is so small that you’re sure he could have pulled the chastity cage off. You order him to get dressed and prepare something hot to drink while you go turn up the heat a little. Your boy bows then goes to his quarters to dress in his winter thermals.

You linger by the window, watching the snow fall, already burying your tracks and your fun. You wonder if your boy has ever been sledding, and suddenly you know how to spend your Christmas. Where in the Master handbook does it say you can’t command your boy to have fun? 

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Text is fictional. 

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Yes. This is good. Master is happy. If he’s happy, I’m happy. He’s got his latte in his favorite cup with that organic milk that was on sale. He’s wearing his favorite casual shorts that I washed last night, and I know he’s free-ballin in there because he’s got nothing else going on’ today. I love knowing his cock is comfortable too. Maybe he’ll let me service it later.
He’s reading one of the books I picked at the library – and he is liking it! I did good. If he likes the ending, I might get a reward. God, he is so hot. I am so lucky to sit at his feet and await his commands. I could watch him read all day. I could listen to him read the phone book all day. Hell, I could watch him sleep all night. I have watched him sleep before though…his dick twitches a lot when he’s unconscious. Very entertaining. Yes, he’s happy. Content. I’m a good boy. I can’t wait until he needs something else. I’m going to make him happy forever.

Oh my god. He’s looking at me. Why is he looking at me like that? God he is so dreamy. Am I bothering him? Shit. Was there something I forgot to do? What do I say? 
“Sir…?”
Oh he’s smiling! This is good. That’s a cheeky smile, not a horny smile or a you’re-gonna-get-it smile. 
“You are so cute.” He then rubs the top of my fuzzy head and cuffs the back of my skull before going back to his book.
……oh my god did that just happen? Master thinks I’m cute! My face feels so red. Master thinks I’m cute. I am going to die from loving him so much. I think I’m going to nuzzle his legs and curl up around his feet for a while and recover from this.

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Text is fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

gayboykink:

Come on, pup, get in your cage! And remember: no barking. The guests are coming in a few minutes and I don’t want you to embarrass yourself by jumping them or humping their legs as they enter the room. Chopchop, off you go, and behave!

Gooood boy! *clicks lock shut*

Good boy indeed. “You can come out once the guests leave. Aw, don’t look at me with those eyes. You haven’t finished obedience school yet. Once you do, we can try socialization. Now, in case you have to pee, there’s a pad in there but try to hold it. You are housebroken aren’t you? I’ll check in on you in a little bit and get you some water. Here’s a Rubik cube to play with. Good boy.”

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Text is fictional. Eeee I love when gayboykink writes pup captions.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

“You found him?” I repeat.
“Uh huh, just wandering around the streets, when I was out on my beer run,” Sully explains.
“Poor thing, he’s in shock,” Marcus adds.
“It’s pretty cold tonight.”
“He’s cute, can we keep him?” Marcus asks.
“Marcus, he’s not a puppy. Sully, did he say anything?”
“He just said that his Master got mad at him for ‘getting in the way’ and told him to take a long walk. He got lost. Then he clammed up, said he’s not allowed to speak to men without permission.”
I cup his chin, check his teeth. “He’s well cared for. Well-nourished. No scars or burns. Not neutered.”
Sully sips his beer. “Should we call the cops?”
“No, he’ll stay here tonight, where it’s warm and safe. If this slave meant so much to his Master, he would not have sent him out so late at night for something so unspecific. That’s how slaves get kidnapped on the black market. I’m going to make that Master fret all night about his boy.”
“Are you sure we can’t keep him? Sully never does the dishes around here.”
“Marcus!” I sigh. “No. He’s got a collar on. If we kept him, that’d be considered theft of property.”
“…But he looks so cute with that rope we found.”
“Why don’t you just get a puppy?” Sully wonders.
“I should, shouldn’t I?”
“Alright, it’s time we all went to bed.” I stand up.
“Can he sleep in my room?”
“He’ll sleep in the guest room, on that futon in there.”

“Thank you Sir, that’s kind of you.”
Everyone looks at the slave boy.
“It’s important that you’re well rested. An exhausted slave is useless.” I reply with a shrug. “Are you finished with your broth?”
“Yes sir.”
“Alright, bed time then. We’ll work this out in the morning.”

We tidied up the living room and trooped upstairs. After we put the boy down to bed, Marcus asked me again. “Are you sure we can’t keep him?”
I told him ‘no’ for the millionth time, and told him to go adopt a puppy.

If I had known that said Master had sent his boy outside to purposely “get kidnapped” by blackmarket slave traders in exchange for a huge pay-out, I would have never gotten involved. Because they would come looking for him, and we would put up the fight of our lives just so one slave could have a good home because, well, we grew attached him. He even got along well with our new puppy.

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Text is fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

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:

torontopup:

photobylee:

“I"m going to be a very good boy.  I promise!." 

This is a new shot.

model: Tyy M