Only the fifth day and still as hot as the first day
It feels hot and right because it is hot and right… it’s how you belong, locked up in metal and shaved. Love shots of guys cupping themselves like this in contemplation.
Tag: slave
fag at work
A good, obedient boy. Love the mark between his shoulder blades, hope it’s a sign of ownership.
He hasn’t seen me yet, standing behind him with a bemused smile on my face. Normally it’s his job to greet me at the door but I actually prefer coming home to see this. I drink in the sight of him, nude and casual and lost in a book. His parents were hard-core fundies and only let him read super-Christian material growing up, so books as rewards are the best currency in this house. I’m guessing he finished all his chores early today. I feel like I should get him some padding for his elbows, but I know what he’s doing on the floor. It’s in the high 90s today and that floor is probably the coolest surface in the house.
Damn, he is a sight. The bottom half of his body is paler than the top half from his cycling hobby. That ass…that waist…those fine, sharp shoulder blades. The urge to pick him up and caress him is strong. I reprimand myself. I need to stop fawning over him before I start to fall in love. I can’t be a good Sir for him that way. Strict. Authoritarian. That’s the way. …is it really so awful to want to make love to your slave?
I tell you what, knock 20% off the asking price since I can guarantee somebody already popped its cherry and you got a deal. Have it cleaned and boxed up and ready for shipping by 5:00pm and we’ll take it with us.
This master has the right idea. A collar, harness, tattoos, and boots are the only “clothing” this slave should ever wear.
He’d been such a good slave lately that I rewarded him on the anniversary of signing our contract. He couldn’t believe his eyes when I gave him his breakfast dish – fried honey ham pieces drizzled in maple syrup, eggs with bell pepper pieces with a squiggle of-ketchup, and fresh peach slices bathed in cream and only a little of my cum. Watching him eat was nearly as fun as giving it to him. I rarely give him any praise at all…but now he knows beyond a doubt I’m proud, and so he’ll work even harder not to disappoint me.
A Master pauses in worship to give thanks to the slave delivered into his hands. His last boy retired from the scene and moved away for a job. Borrowing from the club’s stable isn’t the same; a dom without a slave is only just a man. He can feel the heat of the aroused slave’s genitals on his forehead and nuzzles the curve of his ass. “Mine,” he murmurs, running his hands over the man’s taunt thighs. He recites a quote from the scripture once drilled into his head at Sunday School: “Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own;you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.” He then crossed himself up, stood up, and went to the supply cabinet . Let the honoring begin.