dadopenyourshirt:

“How much longer until dinner, boy?” Dan hollered.
“Ten minutes until plates on the table, Sir.”
“Good. Fucking starving.” Dan took a sip of beer and burped.
Brett knew that statement was rhetorical. Dan wasn’t much for conversation. Dan was a simple man. He wanted his eggs at breakfast, he wanted to go to work and dig holes with his machines, and he wanted to come home to dinner and beer.
Dan didn’t see the point of finding a wife. He didn’t want an equal relationship; he wanted someone to take care of him as the man of the house. 
Brett understood his position in the house. He kept Dan fed, kept his house clean, got the sweat stains out of his shirts, and serviced his cock without complaint. Dan didn’t understand why every bachelor didn’t keep a bottom like Brett at home and under their thumb – it was where they wanted to be anyway.

 “Five minutes, Sir.”
Dan muted the TV, set the bottle on the table, and got up with a groan. He wandered into the bathroom so he could wash his hands. “What’s for dinner, boy?” he called out.
“Roast chicken, squash, buttered rice, strawberry shortcake.”
“I feel like you’re trying to get me to eat healthier.”
“You work hard Sir, and you burn a lot of calories. A rabbit meal isn’t gonna cut it. Your dinners are designed to be filling, but you also need nutrients that come from things like vegetables. Your doctor was pleased with your blood pressure last time, wasn’t he?”
“He was. But that could just be from how you to reduce my stress,” Dan responded.
Brett tried not to smile. “May be so. Then that must be continued as well. I shall suck your cock as you eat dessert if it’d help.”
“It would help. Would put me in a right mood before bed.”
“Of course, Sir. Dinner’s ready and table’s set. Another beer or iced tea?”
“Is it the different stuff you got at the store?”
Brett looked confused. “Oh. I put some orange peel in the tea when I made it.”
“Huh. Yeah. I liked that. Sweet tea is fine. Already had a beer.”
“Yes Sir. Happy to serve you Sir.”
“That’s what I like to hear. I’m too tired to punish you anyway, so I’m glad I rarely have to do it.”
“Thank you Sir!

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Captions are fictional. 

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sir2u-boy:

you know, sometimes I just lay back and think “fuck it’s good to be me”

“Does that whole ‘fuck it’s good to be me’ mentality include the part where I just want to worship and suck you and have you fuck me because you’re so hot?” I ask.
He looks at me with that entitled smirk I love so much. “It does now. That part is pretty nice. Matter of fact, I think my refractory period should be about over. I’m going to fuck you again right now.”
I rub his bulging bicep. “My ass is yours to use when you desire Sir.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Of course it is. Your ass would just be a regular butt if I didn’t grace it with my cock. And you will show me gratitude for elevating your status as my bitch.”
I squirm as I’m getting very horny, “Yes sir. Of course Sir.”
“Now get the lube and ride me. I’m comfortable and don’t want to get up.”
“Yes sir, of course Sir. May I clean you with a warm washcloth before hand?”
A pleased smug looks crosses his face. “You may. I would enjoy that. My cum is all dried on from the last time I put it up you.”
“Should I offer a plug so it stays in this time?”
“What a smart considerate bitch! Gosh, I wish there were more boys like you.”
“I don’t,” I say under my breath.
He hears me anyway and raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“Cause then I’d have to compete with them for you.”
An honest look of fondness crosses his face. “What a lovely thing to say about someone. You definitely factor into the it’s-good-to-be-me mentality now, for sure.”
I blush and feel warm all over. God I love his attention! Every, sticky, sweet, sexy, drop.

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Captions are fictional.

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“Amir! Amir!” The press gather around him as he exits the Theatre, peppering him with dozens of questions:
“How does it feel to win your first Academy Award?”
“Amir, how do you feel about taking the win over Tom Cruise?”
“Amir, what comes next?”
“How will you celebrate?”

Amir freezes, trapped on all sides by journalists, unable to move. The lights are bright and dizzying. For a moment, his anxiety flourishes. He’s still high from his unexpected win and everything is just so over-whelming. However, Amir prevails because he remembers his training. He remembers that the approval of the public and the film industry and his fans comes second to his Dom. Caïn was there first, and Caïn taught him resilience and courage and patience Amir needed to go from a struggling actor to a household name. Caïn also taught Amir that someone would always love him, even if he failed. Amir momentarily closes his eyes and takes a few deep breathes. His fingers drift up to his neck without them even meaning to. He presses his fingertips against the starched white linen and feels for the metal circlet underneath. Amir is aware he is on camera, and that his Dom is probably watching. 

A lot of people were probably watching.

Amir thinks about his collar, and the still healing stripes on his back from their session last night. He thinks about how proud Caïn might be of him.

The press falls quiet. Someone asks if he is alright. Amir turns a little pink and opens his eyes. “Sorry everyone. I just – this is a very overwhelming night for me. I am still in a stupor. Mostly, I feel unworthy because as a young actor, I don’t feel like I deserve it. Well, yet, maybe. I’m still learning, every day. I hope Tom Cruise isn’t mad at me. I really respect him as an actor.”
Light laughter floats up.
“I have two more films in production right now, so I am going to focus on being a better actor and a roll-model for gay men in the film world. And mostly, I am going to celebrate by being not a good Muslim and getting very very drunk tonight.”
More laughter. Amir waves at them and makes his hasty exit to the awaiting car. Inside the privacy of the car, Amir is able to finally check his phone, which has exploded. He scrolls through the text messages until he finds the ones from Caïn:
There’s a few, but a new one pops up at that moment: “So very proud of you, boy. You handled yourself beautifully on TV. I know you are super nervous about live work. Also – when I saw you reach for your collar, it made me very horny. I cannot wait until you come home. Love you, and congrats again.”
Amir smiles and texts back: “I must be the only person depressed that I have to go to an Oscar party instead of being home.”
“Stay out all night if you have to, as I will tie you down tomorrow. I will be here, oiling my leather strap…waiting for you…I think champagne goes well with leather, don’t you think?”
Amir moans and adjusts his chastity device he wore tonight to control his boners, which have a mind of their own. “Thank you for permission to stay out Sir. I think champagne and leather is a great combination.”
“You’re a good boy Amir. You still locked?”
“Thank you Sir. I am, Sir. Happy you locked me Sir, as I am very excited right now.”
Caïn responds again: “So proud of the boy you’ve become Amir. It pleases me very much to know that everyone will want a piece of you tonight, but your cock still belongs to me.”
Amir groans. “I’m going to be thinking of that all night now, Sir!”
“Good. Now go celebrate. That’s an order.”
“Sir, yes Sir!”

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Text is fictional. This is Zayn Malik of the band One Direction apparently? Or ex-One Direction member? This caption is not fan-fiction and in no way attempts to personify him or assume his sexuality.

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Sometimes he comes to me, pouting, arms out, needing comfort. I don’t always ask, just sometimes he feels these pangs of self doubt that he can’t handle the big scary world out there, and then he comes running to me for a hug. He’s kind of a big puppy. Scared of his own shadow. Take a submissive bottom boy, drop it down three levels, and you’ll find him.

“There, there,” I say, pulling him against me, one hand curved around his side. “I’m here.” I will usually push down his underwear a little – he doesn’t wear much clothing around the house – and give his ass a reaffirming squeeze.

I always start with his ass. It’s where I make love to him and claim him. It’s the heart of his sexuality – not his cock. His cock is secondary. He needs to know that I’m not tired of him, that I still find him hot and sexy, and giving that soft bubbly butt a big squeeze confirms that I still think about sinking my teeth into it every time I see it. I run my palm up the sweeping curve of his spin, murmuring comments in his ear about how silky his skin is, how floral his scent. I keep him close to me, always reassuring him with both hands.

He presses his soft cock against my leg and buries his face in my neck. “Are you sure you really want me? And not some skinny, muscular twink?”
I scoff. “Are you crazy? I have you! I love you and your body, every supple piece of it. I like you a bit tender and soft, because it makes you a delight to cuddle with. Ever cuddle with a guy whose bodyfat is 1%? It’s like cuddling with a surfboard.”
This makes him giggle, and I know he’s just bluffing. He just wants the praise. I reach back down and massage one globe of his buttocks with one hand. He moans against my shirt collar.
“I love men,” I clarify, “When I see you, I see an embodiment of every male characteristic I like, and I want. Your adorable personality is the cherry on top.”
“Even though my cock is small?” he asks, unsure.
“You have a cock. That’s my requirement. And even though it might be small, it’s still a good toy.” I drop my voice to a husky purr and whisper in his ear. “There’s plenty there to touch…and stroke…and edge… you have a fat cockhead and you love it when I rub that sensitive skin with my fingertips don’t you?”
He shudders against me. “Oh Papi,” he says with a sigh. “You really know how to make a boy feel special.”
I kiss his ear. “That’s cause you are. You are my boy.”
“Mm I love being your boy. Squeeze my ass again?”
I do so.
“Mmnnn~” he coos. “I love feeling your strong hands on me. Makes me feel so safe.”
“Why don’t we go into the bedroom and I squeeze you all over, work your body inside and out?”
“A massage?”
“Yes, boy.”
He smiles at me. “Because I am your special boy?”
“Because I love you, and I like doing things for the boy I love.” I kiss him.
He pushes back and I gift him with more kisses. I give, he takes, until his lips are puffy and tingling.
“Woah, Papi,” he breathes.
I grin. “That’s the lip massage. Come on.” I take a handful of his ass again. “Let’s go upstairs and do the rest of you.”
He follows me up the stairs, fingers squeezing mine.

______________________________________________________________
Text is fictional. This is Topher DiMaggio fucking Paddy O’Brian.

Your blog is great. Your pictures and captions make me so horny. I won’t masturbate though; I’ve given up masturbating so that the next time I orgasm will be at the hands of a man taking me and my virginity. Still, I haven’t orgasmed for 4 weeks and am getting so horny. I can only hope an alpha somehow finds and claims me soon. I’d love any advice you’d like to give me on anything.

Your blog is great. Your pictures and captions make me so horny. I won’t masturbate though; I’ve given up masturbating so that the next time I orgasm will be at the hands of a man taking me and my virginity. Still, I haven’t orgasmed for 4 weeks and am getting so horny. I can only hope an alpha somehow finds and claims me soon. I’d love any advice you’d like to give me on anything.

Wow, hello there. Delighted to hear my writing and reblogs are having that effect. I’m also happy to hear you’re being a good boy and staying horny for a man, but make sure the man you find to take you will take care of you emotionally and mentally first. Losing your virginity after being horned up and denied for weeks will be a very intense experience. You are giving yourself as a gift to a man, so make sure that man cherishes you.  

That said, gayboykink has offered some good advice on getting some relief in the past – get a dildo and practice, practice, practice. It takes time to accommodate a cock up there, plus it will make you leak like hell and take some of the pressure off. If you’re really lucky you might even get an internal orgasm on your first try. Good luck. 

If you need specifics, message gayboykink…he’s experienced with this.

Thanks for reading~

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I had gone to the dungeon as a last resort. Years of psychological damage from childhood and poor self esteem had left me fragmented and hollow, and therapy could not touch it. I wanted release. I wanted to break through. I wanted to crumple and die and be reborn on the other side.

I was terrified when they tied me to the A frame with ropes and cuffs and chains, spread eagle and naked for a handful of naked and leather-clad spectators. I wanted to use the safe word. It was on the tip of my tongue. Instead I used “yellow”, over and over and over again, until I was sure the man in the mask would frustrated with me and tell me to get out. He did not.

Instead, he listened. He went slow. He spanked me and whipped me until I screamed and my muscles shuddered after each strike. I saw nothing but stars. Over and over until I lost track of them all. I could hear the others murmuring but could not make out what they were saying. I could hear him heaving from the effort. Then, he said, “Good boy,"  and gave one final strike. At that moment, I felt myself come apart. I ejaculated all over the floor. That gross, ugly, dirty shadow of shame that had clung to me ripped away and left me fresh and new and exposed on the frame.

"Stop” crossed my lips as I burst into tears. It hurt to cry – my face ached, my throat hurt. It felt as if my body had sweated out all its liquid and was pulling water from deep inside of me. The masked man and his assistant immediately untied me. The masked man set aside the whip and brought me to the floor and wrapped me into his strong arms. I did not care about his scent, or that his biceps were damp from sweat. I clung to him like a buoy as if I were deep out in dark waters. He rocked me and shh’ed me. His assistant brought me water; I drank it so fast I got hiccups.

The masked man chuckled and soothed me through my hysteria, cleaning my nose and my eyes with a handkerchief.
“There there…it’s alright. Come down now. That was very intense for your first session. I was impressed by your stamina. Alright, breathe for me. Yes, that’s a good boy now.”
“Am – Am I really – good?” I stammered.
He blinked down at me. ‘Yes. You’re a good boy,“ he said, petting my hair.

At that moment, I fell in love with him. I didn’t know his name. I hadn’t seen his face. But I loved him. I curled up against his broad chest and just breathed. No one had ever called me a ‘good boy’ before. No one had ever told me they’d loved me and meant it. No one had held me like this in my life.

I heard a new voice at that moment and realized it was the voice of his assistant. "Master Beaumont, I must say, I think he’s yours.” I looked up at him through swollen eyes, but I did not understand the expression on his face or the sentence he just said. I didn’t care. I fell asleep.

I woke up in the nurse’s office in the dungeon, under a blanket. My back felt hot, but numb. They must have put something on it. I was on my side. I tried to sit up. The noise of the blanket gave me away and a man came into the room.
“You’re up,” he said, relieved.
When I heard his voice, I realized it was Master Beaumont. His face was like a charcoal sketch, angles and lines with a sweeping jaw and bright curious eyes. My love for him did not weaken.
“No – no don’t sit,” Master Beaumont instructed. “Your bottom is still quite tender.”
I reclined back down to the pillow. “Yes sir.”
“Good boy,” he said, almost on reflex.

I tried not to weep more. I was completely dry. He gave me more water with a straw in it and had me drink. I felt better.
Master Beaumont said down on a chair next to me. “Peter said to me – that he’s never seen a session like that before. When I was rocking you at the end, he also said you the same expression his dog had when he adopted her from the pound.”
I gazde up at him, smitten, although I didn’t know what to say exactly. “Keep me,” I said.
He let out a slow breath. I knew he wanted to say something, but instead he said nothing and just thought.

I live in his house now. I serve his needs. I serve his body. I care not for my clothing or the importance of a career or some resemblance of identity. All I seek is for him to seek me. Even an offer of his warm hand stretching forward to cup my cheek makes me melt away. I love these simple moments, these delicate caresses when he shows me the same love I feel for him. And if he wants to make me the happiest person in the world, he will add “Good boy” for a job well done. It’s all I’ll need for the rest of my life.

I have broken through, and here, on this side, there is peace.

_________________________________
Text is fictional. Still looking for source.

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His balls were soft and squishy like pink marshmallows warm from being close to a fire. His ass felt like silk wrapped over two loaves of leavened bread dough – round and risen, puffy and thick. Every inch of Sacha was as virgin and innocent as fresh snow; even his nipples colored his chest like new rosebuds in spring. Kelley was enamored by his ethereal face and wisps of blond hair. He was best displayed on white shag and feather mattresses, ass up, his chubby cock tucked under him. It was too much to take in his seductive form at once. Kelley found it most erotic to simply caress the boy, gently ghosting his fingers over the most intimate curves and swells until Sacha was thoroughly hot and bothered and his balls were swollen as choux pastries fresh out of the oven. Then, Kelley would coax out the boy’s raspberry red erection from under him and watch it drip white pearls.

At times, sexing Sacha felt like a violation, like he’d crossed the red rope in front of a fine art piece, or like he had been forced to eat a dessert that had been gorgeously plated. Yet, Kelley always gave in to the temptation. He only had to put a hand anywhere near Sacha’s entrance and it would relax and open to receive Kelley. He’d never directly ask or beg for sex, but the soft mews of need from Sacha told Kelley all he needed to know. Once Kelley slid his cock into the velvet walls to the hilt and nestled it in the confines of the boy’s bottom, the lingering guilt slid away. Kelley would lose himself, become detached from time itself and float away as he rocked and thrust. Sacha needed the stimulus, he needed the release; masturbation was too rough a game for a tender boy as him. He could only empty those plump balls through internal stimulation, of which Kelley was now the sole provider.

It had been like this for almost a year.

Kelley found Sacha at a high-end adult club for gay men. While trying to find the bathroom in the VIP section, he heard a boy crying. He wandered into the “employee only” area and found Sacha crying in a ball on the floor after accidentally having caught his fingers in a closing door. Kelly soothed him and iced his fingers, then inquired as to why he was not on stage with the other boys. He was beautiful enough. Through his tears, Sacha explained that he was too nervous around the customers and became emotional when handled too aggressively; the house mistress had banished him to the dressing rooms to clean up after the more successful performers and to sew shut the holes in the boys’ costumes. Yet, she was still deducting money from his non-existent paychecks for room and board.
Kelley had been furious; he paid the debt and whisked Sacha off to his yacht in the Mediterranean as a gift to his beloved slave and houseboy, Jules. Jules had a lot of chores – especially when tending to the villa Kelley shared with his brother and socialite wife. He was often times, lonely, so Kelley had brought him a pet to keep him company during the day. The boys had become best of friends.

Jules was not a delicate flower. He was the son of Slavic farmers, meaty and substantial. He was a voyeur and terribly slutty. He could take a lot of cock and plenty of strikes from a whip, and he was quite proud of his own endurance. Jules liked leather. He liked humiliation; he liked it rough and sudden. Yet, Jules was delighted by his new pet; he enjoyed spoiling him greatly, sneaking him pastries from the kitchen or washing him by hand in the bath. Sacha’s milk tasted like the sea and they would pass the time together when their Master was away. His Master approved of their play, knowing a chastity cage kept Sacha safe from Jules’s rough lust.

As Master Kelley rode Sacha to his orgasm, he was more convinced than ever heaven existed right here on Earth. Forget collecting fine art or vases or whatever rich people did – he had all he could every want right here in his bed for any mood or whim: one angel and one devil.

Under him, Sacha moaned and his bones trembled as his nervous system overloaded from the sensitive tip rubbing against the sheets. He never dreamed intimacy could feel this wonderful. He loved being full of Master Kelley, to know the Master he worshiped and adored was was fully using his body and exploring all its potential. Master Kelley’s cock never hurt him, it only drove him to sweet madness and divine bliss. Sacha pushed back against the man dividing him and gasped as the blunt tip pushed into his gland. He whimpered, close to peaking. Master Kelley often left him horny and needing, choosing to spill his boy’s seed when he deemed it fit. By the time he reached the exact second of penetration, Sacha was often near delirious with heat.

Just as he felt as if he would burn up from the inside out, Master Kelley pushed him over the edge and the fever broke. Sacha wailed like gale winds and his spine and thighs cramped from holding a tight arch. He gasped and a cascade of his seed gushed out onto the bed. Master Kelley grunted, dripping with sweat; he pulled Sacha’s hips up and held him in place as he delivered a few intense thrusts and spilled. Besides them, Jules moaned and continued to masturbate with a large rubber toy.

Master Kelley dropped his weight onto Sacha and flexed his ass, nudging his cock up as far as he could go as the orgasm crested and began to fade. Sounds of three men panting filled the small bedroom on the yacht. Master Kelley remained buried in Sacha for as long as he could, making sure every tiny little drop of seed was out of his pet. When he withdrew, Sacha cried a little at the loss. Master Kelley instantly swept him into his arms and cuddled him, kissing his cherubic cheeks and rubbing circles onto his hip with his palm.

Once the hormones and emotions dispersed, Sacha was left exhausted and drained and wet. The ache of the loss not so great now, and in truth he was quite happy. Jules however, was angry and frustrated, so Master Kelley took a moment to clean his cock, relubed, and then pounded Jules into the mattress until he triggered an anal orgasm and gave his locked boy some relief. Sacha didn’t mind watching; he found it all fascinating how so much cum could come out of such a trapped little penis. Jules, of course, loved it when Sacha watched. He’d thank him by parting his legs and licking him clean under his Master’s approving gaze.

Afterwards, the three would have a rest, talking and giggling. When it got chilly, there would be a hot bath together, with sparkling water and finger foods. Master Kelley would normally pinch himself at least once to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Then he would draw the bath and the yacht named Paradise would sail off in the night toward the Almafi Coast.

_________________________________________________________
Text is fictional. One source says the name of this owner’s ass is Brandon from Sean Cody but he’s in too many videos to pin down a specific one. Goddamn, that ass though.

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“This is my cock. It is mine. You may kiss me, you may touch me, but you cannot touch this. I own this big beautiful cock and the fat peach below. You have been slutting it up with every man in this club, desperate to find someone to tend it every night. Your cock and balls are obviously too much for you to handle. I will be controlling this and milking it when I deem fit from now on. You don’t have a say in this, because you don’t know better. You’re just a beta. You will be happier by surrendering it to me, so I’m making that choice for you. What is this? A drip already? I think you need a date with the handcuffs and the e-stim machine. We need to clear out your pipes before I lock you up.”

________________
Text is fictional.

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Marcus pretended the act of unbuttoning his jeans was much more involved than it actually was. He was nervous though, eyes flicking up and down at the man watching him intently.

“Come on shy boy. Open up.”

Marcus chewed on his lower lip and oh so slowly unzipped his jeans and parted the flaps to show off his flaccid cock for his suitor. He knew what the man would say and he just wanted to savor the moment of the potential before the rejection, but the man was impatient today.

The man said a soft “yes, that’s it,” under his breath. Damien took a moment to admire the shy cock trying to curl back under its owner. A thick main vein ran down the topside of the shaft, no doubt there to pump it full of blood and double its size when hard. Damien reached for Marcus’s cock like he owned it, hefting it in his hand and testing the girth with his fingers. It wasn’t at all sexual, it was like being graded for its quality of meat.

“It’s too big isn’t it…?”
“What?” Damian tilted his head, “No, it’s fine. I can absolutely fit it into a chastity device. By this evening, if you desire. I can have you locked up and safe and you can sleep tonight knowing you have been properly put into your place, just like you always wanted.”

Marcus’s jaw dropped. “What? Really? You’re serious. No one else has said that before!”
The man barked out a laugh. “Amateurs. You did the right thing by coming to me. A lot of boys don’t even know why they’re so miserable and have to be locked up forcefully before the clarity comes. You were smart, and figured it out early. That deserves special recognition.”
“Cause – cause, a locked boy is a happy boy,” Marcus blurted out the slogan he’d seen on the internet.
“Yes,” the man exhaled, looking pleased. “What was your name, Marcus?”
He nods, eagerly. “Yes sir.”
“You are a breath of fresh air Marcus. So wonderful to see a boy seeking a man out, instead of the other way around.”

Marcus beamed, a bit pink in the cheeks. “Thank – thank you sir. I just …I just want to be happy. I’m not happy. I still masturbate way too much, people keep assuming I’m a top, and feel so lost at bars. I don’t know who is safe, who is bad. I just need, really, really need guidance, but it’s so distracting having my cock just flopping around in my pants.”
Damian ruffled his hair and rebuttoned Marcus’s pants. “There there, it’s alright. No need to get emotional now. I’m going to fix this. I’m going to get you locked up, and I’ll make sure you get milked when it’s good for you, not when society flashes a sexy image you.”
“God, thank you Sir, thank you so much. I need this so bad…”

“You need a superior man to guide you, I understand,” Damian said, patting the bulge in Marcus’s jeans. “Come over tonight at 7. I’ll make dinner, then we can get you cleaned and secure and you can spend the night in case you’re uncomfortable and need adjustments.”
“Is it really gonna be uncomfortable?”
“It shouldn’t be no. It should be snug, to keep your dick small and your hard-ons restricted but sometimes the ring is too tight or your balls tingle because of pinched nerves. Eager boys with bad training often get erections because chastity devices make their dick hard. It can be scary the first time you try to get hard and can’t. I want to be there to reassure you.”
Marcus nodded, wide eyes locked on Damian. “7 tonight, Sir?”
“Yes. I have to prepare your room. I’ll text you my address. Go home and wrap up whatever you need to do today. Oh, and no masturbating.”
“Yes sir, wouldn’t even think of it. Thank you very much, Master Damien.”

Marcus wanted to kneel and kiss his feet, but they weren’t in that kind of relationship yet. He gave a polite handshake and ran back to his car, trying to control his beating heart. It was really happening. No one took him seriously when he wanted to do the impossible – control his sex drive – but Marcus knew better. He knew that not all men are created equal, and that the road to contentment is embracing your place in the hierarchy. He’d known that since he first saw a man and wanted to be dominated by him. Damian was going to be his keyholder to happiness. He checked his watch three times on the way home…7 couldn’t come fast enough.

___________________
Text is fictional.

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Corbin dusted his hands off as he jogged up the stairs. He was already up and had gone through his morning routine. He fetched the paper, made sure Fabian’s shoes were polished, and laid out his clothes over a chair. It was 7:30, time to wake him up. He gently placed a hand on his Master’s shoulder. “Good Morning, Sir, it’s time to get up,” he said gently.
“Mmphhh,” Fabian protested, rolling onto his side. “Sleepy.”
“Sir, it’s 7:32. You need to get up,” Corbin said gently.

They worked together like a well oiled machine; Fabian would wash up and do a brief session of yoga while Corbin made breakfast. Sometimes he swapped the yoga for more intimate activities. While Fabian would eat breakfast, Corbin would pack his lunch. After a good-bye kiss, his Master would go off to work; Corbin would eat the leftovers then begin his daily chores and errands around college classes. However, this was all hinged around them both getting up at the right time.

Master Fabian groaned, “I’m so tired from last night. I’m going to skip yoga this morning.”
This was understandable. They’d been uplate trying out the new sling. Master Fabian had a lot of fun connecting Corbin’s nipples to the tip of his locked cock and listening to him moan with every thrust. Corbin had slept like a rock that night, totally depleted of energy. It seemed the session drained his Master too.

At the declaration that he was skipping yoga, Corbin waited for Fabian to throw back the blankets and expose his proud erection for care, but Fabian just snuggled deeper into the sheets. He rolled over onto his other side and held up the comforter on the empty side of the bed. “You, get in here. I want to hold you.”
“But – but Sir, breakfast and-”
“Now.” Even half asleep he could use that bossy tone that gave Corbin goosebumps.
Corbin glanced at the clock. Well they had about fifteen minutes. He walked around to the side of the bed and crawled in. The second he settled, strong arms wrapped around his upper body. A content sigh came from behind Corbin as he felt a scratchy jaw nuzzling his shoulder. “You’re so warm…”
“Do you want me to do anything to please you Sir?”
“Just stay still boy.”
Corbin did. He was pleased to be in his Master’s bed and folded in his strong arms. The mattress was comfy – softer than Corbin’s own futon in the walk in closet. The pillows carried Fabian’s scent, and the comforter trapped all the warmth until they were both snuggled up like in a cocoon. Although he’d felt awake enough a minute ago, Corbin’s eyelid began to droop and he yawned. He could hear his Master’s slow shallow breathing behind him. Corbin began to worry he was going to fall asleep. He considered that they should probably set an alarm or something but –

He was roused when a phone rang. He sat up, blinking blearily, listening to Fabian answer and talk on the phone. When Corbin glanced at the clock, his heart sank – it was 10:34. Judging by the conversation, it was Fabien’s work place, wondering why their boss hadn’t show up today. Corbin could hear the conversation. They’d both overslept, and terribly at that. Not only had none of the morning chores gotten done, his Master was late to work. Corbin’s mind went from deep pleasure to instant fear of punishment.

When Fabian hung up the phone, he looked at Corbin who was all wide eyed and terrified.
“Sir I’m sorry – I should have set the al-
"Boy.”
“Yes sir…?” he asked meekly.
Fabian stretched. “When I told you to get into bed, I was aware of the potential consequences. What I wanted was to snuggle with you for a bit, work be damned. I feel so incredibly well rested. I really needed those extra hours especially after last night.”
Corbin blushed a little. “You wanted to snuggle with me Sir?”
“Mnn. It was nice to have some time with my houseboy. You’re very thermal.”
“T..thank you Sir. I enjoyed it too. Shall I go prepare breakfast?”

Master Fabian smiled and tossed off the comforter exposing his throbbing erection. “Nope. I’m going to be even later today. Now get the lube.”

Corbin’s eyes lit up. Getting to sleep in his Master’s bed and getting to receive his Master’s cock? It wasn’t even his birthday today. “Yes sir!”

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Text is fictional.