"Get up boy," I tell him. "I need to piss."
"Yes, Master," responds boy, his voice gravelly with sleep.
I walk into the bathroom, and boy kneels behind me as I stand in front of the toilet and release a flood of piss from my bladder. I step back and tell boy to sit on the toilet and empty his bladder. When he sits on the toilet and starts pissing, I put my cock on his lips.
"Lick the piss from my cock, boy," I tell him. "Do not suck it, just lick it."
Saying nothing, boy licks my cock. When his piss stops splashing into the toilet, I flush to toilet and tell him to stand up and follow me into the bedroom. I lay on the bed, and I tell boy to crawl into the bed, pull the blanket up and lay with his back to my chest. I hug him close and curl my legs around him, letting my cock rest on the smooth skin of his ass cheeks.
I wake up. The room is lit with the morning sun pouring through the window. Boy still sleeps with his arm over my chest and his head under my arm. I push his arm off my chest to wake him up and push the covers off with my legs. Boy opens his eyes and, in just seconds, turns his body and begins kissing my chest, working his way down to my cock. I smile to myself. He has done this every morning, and it has become a natural part of his waking routine. He starts licking my cock. This time, I have no need to piss and can fully enjoy the sensation. After several minutes of licking, boy swallows my cock into his throat. I put my hand on his head.
"No sucking, boy," I tell him. "Just lick." With apparent reluctance, boy lets my cock fall out of his mouth and continues to lick. I stretch my arms, savoring the erotic feel of boy's tongue on my cock. I enjoy the licking for several minutes. I raise my legs.
"Get up, boy," I tell him. "Follow me into the bathroom. It's time to get this day going."
Saying nothing, boy follows me into the bathroom and kneels behind me as I stand in front of the sink. I pick up my toothbrush and toothpaste and turn my head to look at boy.
"Do you need to piss, boy?" I ask him.
"No, Master," he responds.
I finish brushing my teeth and walk into the shower. Boy crawls on his knees, picks up a clean towel and drapes it over his arms. I look at boy, kneeling with a contented look on his face, as I lather my body with soap under the warm shower water. I rinse off the soap, turn off the shower, and take the towel from boy. I dry my upper body and hand the towel to boy. Boy dries my back with a deliberate pace and, again, I wonder if he gets satisfaction, maybe fulfillment, performing this task which most individuals would consider humiliating. He carefully dries my ass, pushing the towel between my ass cheeks with his fingers. When he dries my balls, I feel his fingers massaging my testicles. When he has dried my legs, boy leans back. Whether boy experiences satisfaction or humiliation, I experience undeniable pleasure and fulfillment in having him serve me in this way.
"Listen, boy," I tell him. "While I shave and get dressed you will prepare our breakfast. Fix us each a half a grapefruit, two soft-boiled eggs, dry cereal with sliced bananas and fresh coffee. Understood?"
"Yes, Master," boy responds.
"Good. Now stand up and go into the kitchen."
"Yes, Master," he responds as he stands up.
I gaze at his backside as boy walks out of the bathroom. No wonder, I say to myself, that I want and need to fuck that boy. I start shaving, thinking about what I want to do this morning. It is another beautiful day and while the day is young, I decide we will jog and sprint the nature trail. I finish shaving, walk into the bedroom and put on a pair of khaki pants, no underwear, and a t-shirt. I walk into the kitchen barefoot. Boy is kneeling with his head bowed, facing the entrance, and I see that the breakfast meal is properly set on the table. I walk in front of boy.
"Kiss my feet, boy," I ordered. I realize that giving that command just now was an impulse on my part, I did not plan it. Having boy kiss my feet enforces in his conscious mind that I am his master and that everything he does, including the breakfast he has prepared, I control. Saying nothing, boy puts his head down and licks and kisses both of my feet. I sense no reluctance on boy's part as he licks and kisses. I watch him press his tongue between each of my toes as if he is tasting sweet nectar hidden in those crevices.
"Good, boy," I tell him after a few minutes. "Now get to your feet and sit down at the table. Let's enjoy this meal that you have prepared."
"Yes, Master," he responds as he stands up. I watch him carefully lower his ass onto the edge of his chair and slowly slide into the chair. I think his caged cock must be very sensitive by now, the cage has been in place for almost a week.
I start eating my soft-boiled eggs, and boy digs into his meal with his usual gusto. The meal is tasty and nutritious, and I have finished everything in less than fifteen minutes. Having eaten everything before I had finished mine, boy sits with his hands to his side, looking down at his empty cereal bowl.
"Stand up, boy," I instruct him. "Bring me a cup of coffee and a cup for yourself."
"Yes, Master," he responds as he stands up and walks over to the counter. He pours the coffee into the cups and brings them to the table, putting one in front of me on the table and the other at his place. He remains standing at my side. His head bowed and his hands behind his back.
I look at his caged cock. I have not tasted his sweet cream in almost a week, and I would enjoy milking his cock right now.
"Tell me, boy," I ask him, "why do I have you stand here after serving my coffee?"
"Master," boy responds, his voice quivering, "Master may want to milk his slave cock to get fresh cream for his coffee."
"Correct boy," I tell him. "I would like your fresh cream this morning. Tell me why I cannot milk your cock this morning."
"Master," he responds, "slave's cock is in a plastic cage."
"Tell me why I have caged your cock, boy," I say.
"Master, your slave touched his cock without your permission, Master."
"How do you feel about that, boy?" I ask.
"Master," he responds, trying to restrain sobs. "Your slave wishes he had not touched his cock without your permission. Your slave will never again touch his cock without Master's permission. Your slave's cock aches for Master to milk it."
"You have been obedient all week, boy, diligently serving my desires," I tell him. "Fucking you all week has been astounding as well. I am proud that you belong to me. I know that anyone who gazes at you envies me that your handsome and beautiful physical attributes are for my enjoyment and not theirs. Not the least of your attractive attributes is your cock. Continue to obey and please me as you have been doing, and I will free that cock from its bondage on Monday."
"Thank you, Master," responds boy.
"Now, sit in your chair and enjoy your coffee," I tell him.
"Yes, Master," he responds as he walks to his chair and carefully sits down.
As he sips his coffee, I tell boy that after he has finished the coffee, he is to clean the kitchen and then go into the master bath. I instruct him to relieve his bladder, and if he needs to, empty his bowels but not to flush the toilet. He is to brush his teeth, shower and shave his body but not to clean his insides with the enema bag. When he has finished those tasks, he is to wait for me in the bedroom.
I pick up my coffee cup and walk into the den. I make myself comfortable in the reading chair next to the window. I am thinking about Howie's last e-mail message. I agree with his position on 'sharing' the qualities our boys possess. I look out the window, and I imagine dog-boy romping over the grass playing fetch with boy while Howie and I watch. I ask myself: What of boy's many attractive attributes would I be willing to share? Maintaining boy's loyalty and devotion cannot be compromised. As I sip the coffee, I wonder whether it was fate or chance that boy came into my life or dog-boy into Howie's life? Does boy have an innate need to be a slave or Howie's boy to be a dog? Boys' submission allows me to mold his many attributes to serve and delight me in every way; his apparent loyalty and devotion that I like to think are a result of my training gives me kind of satisfaction I could get no other way. Again, I realize that boy is not a mere sex toy; he is an important part of my life. I shake myself away from these thoughts. I look at the clock. I have been sitting here ruminating over these deep questions for almost forty-five minutes. I watch the dew on the grass steam in the morning sun. I want boy and I to jog and sprint the nature trail while the day is yet young.
I walk into the bedroom. Boy is kneeling facing the entrance. The strip of hair down the middle of his head is still damp and his freshly shaved body glistens in the sun light pouring in from the bedroom window.
"Stand up, boy," I tell him. "Go to the workout room, get your shoes and socks and come back here to the bedroom."
"Yes, Master," boy responds as he gets up.
I walk into the bathroom. I take out my cock and piss into the toilet. I note that boy did have a bowel movement. I flush the toilet and walk back into the bedroom. Boy is kneeling facing me with his shoes and socks at his side. I walk over to the dresser, open the drawer with boy's clothes, and pick out a pair of shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt. I know that the shorts are tight fitting and will hug his caged cock keeping it from swaying while he jogs and sprints. I smile to myself. I have to admit that I also want to display his features while he jogs. I open another drawer and take out the shorts, jock strap and shirt I want to wear. I drop boy's clothes on the floor next to his shoes and put my clothes on the bed. I get my jogging shoes and a clean pair of socks and put them on the floor next to the bed.
"Take off my pants, boy," I tell him as I take off my shirt, letting it fall to the floor. "Then get me dressed to go jogging this morning."
"Yes, Master," boy responds as he crawls on his knees to get in front of me. He unbuttons my pants, which fall at my feet. I have no underwear on, and he kisses my cock. Boy reaches over to the bed and picks up my jock strap and holds it at my feet. I step into the jock strap and boy pulls the strap up my legs, giving my cock another kiss and a lick before it is covered by the strap. He picks up the shorts from the bed and holds them at my feet. Again, just before the shorts cover my cock, he presses his lips to my cloth-covered cock. I continue to stand as boy picks up one of my socks. I raise my left foot up a couple of inches from the floor. Boy kisses the top of the foot and puts the sock on my foot. I raise my right foot and boy kisses my foot and puts on the sock. Boy places my left shoe in front of my foot and I step into the shoe. He pulls the laces of the shoe tight and ties the lace while I reach over and pick up my t-shirt and pull it on. He puts the right shoe down, and after I step into the shoe, he ties the lace.
"Put on the shorts, shirt, socks and shoes, boy," I instruct him. Boy sits on his ass and stretches his legs in front of him and pulls the shorts up his legs. He raises his ass and pulls the shorts up to his waist, puts on the sleeveless t-shirt and puts on his socks and shoes. When he is dressed, he gets back onto his knees, with his head bowed.
"Stand up, boy," I tell him.
"Yes, sir," he responds as he stands up and puts his hands to his back.
I smile as I gaze at his handsome body. I walk around to his back and squeeze each of his ass cheeks in my hand. I walk to his front and run my hand over his crotch. The shorts tightly grip his caged cock and i can see the outline of the plastic cage clearly outlined. I am satisfied that he will have no problem with the cage while he is jogging or running.
"You are a handsome sight, boy," I tell him sincerely. "I will have to be alert to protect my property as the guys and gals who see you as you jog this morning will be lusting to touch that beautiful ass and find out if that cock of yours feels as good as it looks in those tight shorts."
"Yes, Master, " he responded, his voice low as if unsure how to take what I told him. "Thank you, Master."
"Follow me, boy," I tell him. "We are going to spend the next hour or so in nature's splendor jogging and running."
"Yes, Master, he responds as I walk out of the bedroom. Boy follows me out the front door. I close the door, and we walk across the lawn to the nature trail. I begin jogging, boy following just behind me to my left, for about a half mile when I stop.
"We are going to sprint from here up to the curve ahead, turn around and sprint back to this place." I told boy. "I want you to run as fast as you can. If you run ahead of me, all the better. Understood?"
"Yes, Master, " he responds with some enthusiasm. We start sprinting. I guess the curve is about 50 yards from where we started. Before I get to the curve, boy has passed me by and by the time I turn around I am well behind him. Boy stops where we started, and I reach the spot a few seconds later.
We both are sweating and panting, but I am invigorated to do this again. "Excellent, boy," I tell him. "Let's run again. This time I will try to keep ahead of you. However, if you pass me up, that will mean you are in good shape, and that fact pleases me."
I start running, honestly trying to stay in front of boy who is right behind me. I am still ahead when I turn around at the curve. Before we reach the starting point boy passes me up. When I reach the starting point, boy is standing, panting and sweating from the exertion of the run, with his hands behind his back, head slightly lowered, and a smile upon his face.
"Excellent, boy," I tell him. I am panting and sweating as well. "I enjoyed that. Now I want you to sprint one more time, this time on your own. I will just watch."
Saying nothing, boy starts sprinting. He is not running fast, but I can tell he is trying. When he gets back to the starting point, he bends over and is panting heavily.
"Good, boy," I tell him as I give his ass a gentle slap. "Stand up. We will rest a few minutes before finishing our jog." Boy stands up and walks behind me as I get off the trail and lean against a tree.
"Kneel next to me here, boy, facing the trail, I tell him. "While we catch our breath, the joggers passing by can appreciate your attractive features."
"Yes, Master," boy responds, his tone betraying embarrassment as he kneels next to my leg, puts his hands on his ankles and lowers his head.
"Spread your knees out a little more, boy, and hold your head up. I am proud of your good looks, and I want anyone who gazes at you to take in what I can take pleasure in."
Saying nothing, boy raises his head. Several joggers pass by, and when one would slow down and look at us, I would give a smile of greeting and pointedly put my hand on the back of boy's head. I enjoy the sense of unique ownership symbolized by this gesture, and I think boy must feel a combination of humiliation and, maybe, pride. After all, I think to myself, boy has to be reminded that I am his Master, and that he is good looking.
"Let's finish the jog, boy," I tell him. He follows me as I resume the jog. We are both sweating and panting as we jog the rest of the trail, keeping a moderate pace, returning to the starting point and walk off the trail and back into our yard. When we are in the middle of the yard, I stop and close my eyes and take a deep breath. I want to smell the grass and hear all sounds of nature. After several deep breaths, I turn around. Boy is kneeling just inches from where I am standing, with his head down. I cup my hands under his chin, raising his head.
"Tell me, boy, what do you worship every day?" I ask him.
"Master," boy responds. His eyes focused on my crotch. "Your slave worships your cock, Master."
I take my hand from his chin. "Take off that sweaty shirt, boy" I instruct him.
"Yes, Master," boy responds as he pulls his shirt up over his head, dropping it to the ground.
I rub my hands over his sweaty chest, enjoying the sensation of his pectoral muscles quivering as I squeeze.
"Lower my shorts and jock strap, boy," I instruct him. "Show all the nature around us your devotion to my cock."
Boy puts his hand on the top of my shorts and slowly lowers them to my feet, kissing the bulge in my jock strap and then lowers the jock strap to my feet. Putting his hands to his back, boy kisses my now hard cock from the base to the tip.
"You have an emptiness inside of you that yearns to be filled, boy," I tell him. "Suck my cock deep into your throat and begin to fill that empty space."
With no hesitation, boy slides his tongue under my cock and effortlessly swallows the entire length into his throat. He breathes through his nose, and I feel his throat muscles squeeze my cock. I am not just aware; I know, that my cock in his throat has become a natural part of everything that boy is.
I put my hands behind boy's ears to control the pace, and slowly move my cock out of his throat and feel boy's tongue swirl around my cock head. I let him swallow my cock again. I continue the slow paced fuck for several minutes, pausing once in a while when my cock is in his throat. Erotic bliss flows from my cock through my entire body as boy, with natural effortlessness, swallows while my cock is deep into his throat. I sense the imminence of ejaculation and press boy's head onto my pubes. With what feels like an electric force, making me breathless, my cock erupts three times. I feel boy swallow the cream streaming from my cock. I pull my cock out of his throat and let it rest in his mouth as boy continues to swallow.
I remove my hands from boy's head but he keeps my cock in his mouth, gently swirling with his tongue under my cock as it slowly deflates. I savor the feeling of fulfillment and, given boy's continued attention to my cock. I think boy must have a sense of fulfillment as well. I take my cock out of his mouth, and I watch boy continue to focus on my cock as he licks his lips as if trying to catch any errant cream.
"OK, boy," I tell him. "Pick up your shirt and stand up. Let's get back into the house. I need some refreshment."
"Yes, Master," boy responds with a raspy voice as he picks up his shirt and stands up. I walk back to the house. When we walk through the front door, boy kneels as I close the door.
"Take off those sweaty clothes, boy," I instruct him. "Take your shoes to the workout room and the clothes to the laundry room and then go into the kitchen."
"Yes, Master," boy responds as he sits back onto his ass and starts taking off his shoes. I walk into the kitchen and sit at the kitchen table. In a few minutes, boy walks into the kitchen and walks around the table and starts to kneel in front of me.
"No need to kneel now, boy," I instruct him. "Fix us each a protein smoothie, make it with raspberries, three or four handfuls of the shelled walnuts and a couple of bananas."
"Yes, Master," boy responds as he turns around and walks over to the refrigerator. As he gets out the ingredients, my cock begins to harden again as I watch his muscular ass twitch with every step he takes. I know that before I go to sleep tonight, I will have my cock penetrating that rosebud hidden between the fine-looking cheeks of his ass. In a few minutes, boy turns off the blender and pours two large glasses full with the cool smoothie and brings the glasses over to the table. He puts one glass in front of me and the other at his place and kneels next to my chair.
"Looks good, boy," I tell him. "Stand up and sit down at the table. Let's enjoy this soothing refreshment."
"Yes, Master," boy responds as he stands up and walks over to his chair. He sits down carefully, and I am reminded that his cock must be very sensitive in its plastic cage. Boy stares at his glass, waiting for me to take the first sip. I take a large sip, and I am not disappointed with the taste. Boy, as usual, seeing me take a sip, gulps down half the contents of his glass as if his life depended on it. I take my time drinking the smoothie while boy stares at his empty glass.
"Time to get the sweat showered off, boy," I tell him. "You will clean up the kitchen later. Follow me into the bedroom."
Boy follows me into the bedroom. When I stop, boy kneels behind me. I turn around.
"Get me undressed, boy," I instruct him.
"Yes, Master," he responds as he starts unlacing my shoes. When he takes one shoe off, he kisses the top of my foot and takes off the stocking, kissing my foot again and does the same for the other foot. When he pulls down my shorts, I step out of them as he kisses my cock through the jock strap. While he takes off my jock strap, again, kissing my now exposed cock, I pull my shirt off and drop it onto the floor with the other clothes.
"Take these sweaty clothes to the laundry room and then come into the bathroom," I instruct him.
"Yes, Master," he responds as he picks up my sweaty clothes and stands up. As boy walks out of the bedroom, I walk into the bathroom. I empty my bladder and I remind myself to have boy piss as well when he comes into the bathroom. I walk into the shower area and as I am soaping my body in the warm body, boy walks into the bathroom and kneels.
"Do you need to piss, boy?" I ask him.
"No, Master," he responds. Seeing me start to rinse away the soap, boy reaches for a towel and drapes it on his outstretched arms.
I finish rinsing the soap from my body and turn off the shower. I take the towel from boy's outstretched arms and dry my upper body and hand the towel to boy as I turn around. As boy dries my back, I enjoy his fingers massaging my muscles through the towel I wonder that he always performs this task with such willing diligence. I think he must get satisfaction from the task, or maybe he realizes that he will be rewarded. Does he enjoy getting fucked as much as I enjoy fucking him? Is his diligence his way of telling me he wants my cock inside of him? Boy firmly presses the towel between my ass cheeks and I decide that sometime today, before I fuck him tonight, I will have him explore the deep recess of my ass with his tongue. Boy dries my balls and legs and leans back.
"Take a quick and soapy shower, boy," I instruct him. "When you have rinsed and dried your body, take the wet towels to the laundry room and put up fresh towels. When you have finished tidying up the bathroom, you will clean up the kitchen and then come into the den. Understood, boy?"
"Yes, Master," he responds as he stands up.
As boy walks into the shower, I walk into the bedroom. I put on a pair of chinos, without putting on underwear, pull on a t-shirt and walk, barefoot, into the den. I sit at my desk and power up the computer, my thoughts focusing on a response to Howie's last e-mail message. I open the e-mail, there are a few messages there but nothing of importance. I click on new message.
"Howie,
It is not quite noon here as I start this message. In a few days we will be talking face-to-face, with our boys kneeling at our feet. The unique relationship each of us have with our boy continues to fascinate and intrigue me. This morning I took boy out to run with me on the nature trail not far from my house. When we got back into my backyard, I stopped and took a deep breath to enjoy the morning sun and air. Boy immediately knelt, hands behind his back and his head lowered. I looked at him - both of us were sweating, and his tank top was soaked with sweat outlining his somewhat muscular pectorals. I asked him the question I ask every day: "What do you worship every day, boy?" With no hesitation and in a tone communicating sincerity, he told me "Master, your slave worships your cock." I ask myself: is boy's submissive need to worship my cock part of his DNA or is it a conditioned need? Whatever the answer, I instructed boy to take off his shirt and lower my shorts and jock strap. He kissed my cock, and I instructed him to swallow my cock. With amazing ease and seeming pleasure, he swallowed my cock, sweat dripping down his nose onto my pubes. During the next ten minutes or so, the sun streaming over our sweaty bodies, I enjoyed the best fuck in days; my cock felt as if it belonged deep in boy's throat. With what seemed to me to be greedy urgency, he swallowed every drop of the cream that streamed out of my cock. When I took my cock out of his mouth, he licked his lips as if not wanting to miss any of my cream.
We will explore our sexual adventures in more detail when you get here Friday. Let me know about what time you will arrive next Friday. I will have boy prepare an evening meal for us.
Your friend and fellow Master,
Jake"
I push the send button as boy walks into the den and kneels next to my chair. I swivel around to face him. He keeps his head lowered as I rub my hands up and down his back. Putting my hand under his chin, I raise his head, lean over and press my lips to his lips. Boy opens his mouth, and I insert my tongue and enjoy the salty-sweet taste of his mouth. I want to communicate to him that I enjoyed the morning. I sit back into my chair and look at Boy. He has a soft smile on his face and is licking his lips. The thought occurs to me that whenever I kiss boy, he never attempts to insert his tongue into my mouth. I turn off the computer, pick up the Kndle Reader and the iPod and walk over to my reading chair. Boy remains kneeling as I get comfortable in the chair.
"Come over here, boy," I instruct him.
"Yes, Master," he responds as he stands up and starts walking over to where I am seated.
"Sit between my legs, boy, with your back to the chair." I instruct him.
Boy turns around, sits on his ass, leaning his back against the chair and stretches his legs in front of him. I think he knows that I will be giving him the IPad to play with. I cross my legs across his chest and give him the iPad. As he takes the iPad, boy kisses my hand and promptly turns the machine on and is engrossed in one of his favorite games. I turn on the Reader and I am quickly absorbed in the novel I am reading. After some time, I feel the need to piss. Telling boy to stay, I get up and walk to the bathroom. After a long and refreshing piss, I flush the toilet and walk into the kitchen to get a drink of water. I look into the sink, and to my dismay, boy had not put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and there was food on the counter that should have been put into the refrigerator.
"Boy," I yelled. "Come here into the kitchen."
In just seconds boy rushed into the kitchen, obviously realizing that I was upset. He kneeled in front of me.
"You did not clean the kitchen as instructed," I told him. "Stand up and go to the bedroom and bring back one of my belts," I ordered.
"Yes, Master," his voice quacking as he got up and walked quickly out of the kitchen towards the bedroom.
I walked into the dining room and brought one of the high stools back into the kitchen and placed it to my side. Boy came back into the kitchen with a belt in his hand and knelt in front me. He was struggling to hold back tears as he knew he was going to be whipped. I took the belt from his hand.
"Lay over the stool, boy, with your ass up," I ordered.
Saying nothing, boy stood up and lay stomach down over the stool, the plastic cage on his cock clanking as it struck the edge of the stool.
"You will get eight sharp strokes of this belt, boy, for your disobedience. Tell me, boy, why you are being whipped."
"Master," boy responded his voice shaking, "your slave did not clean the kitchen as ordered, Master."
I could tell he wanted to say more, perhaps beg not to be whipped but must have thought better of it. I stood to his side and, with considerable force, brought the belt down on his upraised ass. Boy let out a moan of pain as I watched the red welt develop in his ass. I admit that I get pleasure administering these whippings. I take my time between strokes, to watch the welt develop before the next slap of the belt. With each stroke, boy moans but does not yell and by the fourth stroke, boy is loudly sobbing. I give boy the eighth stroke, put the belt on the table and sit in one of the kitchen chairs. I watch boy, his ass now decorated with red stripes, as his body quivers with his deep sobs. I wait a few minutes until his sobbing has subsided.
"Off the stool, boy," I ordered. "Get over here and kneel in front of me."
"Yes, Master," boy sobs out as he gets off the stool and onto his knees in front of me. Tears stream down his face.
"Tell me, boy," I ask. "Why have I whipped you?"
"Master," boy sobs out, "your slave did not clean the kitchen as you ordered, Master."
"That sore ass will remind you for the rest of the day that you were disobedient and displeased me."
"Yes, Master," boy sobs out as he drops his head down onto his chest. I think he is looking at his caged cock, probably worried that, now, I will change my mind and not take it off next Monday.
"You have been punished for your disobedience, boy,''" I continue "I will not be denied the pleasure of milking your cock for its fresh cream after next Monday. Any lack of devotion to my needs or disobedience from this point on will result in punishment. Do you understand, boy?"
"Yes, Master," responds boy, his voice shaking with sobs. "Your slave understands, Master"
"Tell me, boy, what you must do from now on."
"Master," boy responds holding back his sobs as best he can. "Your slave must give you devotion and obey your instructions, Master."
I put my hand under his chin, raising his head. I wipe his tears from his cheeks with my thumb. "Good, boy." I tell him keeping my voice soft. "Show me your obedience now. I want you to stand up, take the stool to the dining room, come back into the kitchen, take the belt from the table. Go to the bedroom, put the belt away and then go in the bathroom. I want you to blow the snot out of your nose and rinse your face at the sink. You may piss if you need to, but do not flush the toilet. Then come back to the kitchen."
"Yes, Master," responded boy, letting out a sigh, I think of relief, as he stands up. I watch his beautifully decorated red ass as he walks over and picks up the stool and walks out of the kitchen.
I follow boy out of the kitchen and walk into the den. I pick up the Kindle reader and walk back into the kitchen just as boy is walking out with the belt in his hand. I sit at the kitchen table, and in a few minutes boy walks in and kneels in front of me with his head down. I run my hand through the strip of hair on his head.
"You want to be an obedient boy?" I ask him.
"Yes, Master, " he responds with no little enthusiasm.
"Because of your disobedience and lack of devotion, I am inclined to put you in the garage, out of my site, for the rest of the day, and you can sleep on the concrete floor tonight and not next to me in my bed. Would you prefer that, boy?"
"No, Master, please," boy responds, trying not to sob. "Your slave will obey you and show you devotion, Master." Boy leans his head down and starts licking and kissing my feet.
"The choice is yours boy," I tell him. "Show me your devotion and obedience from this point on or you will spend the rest of the day and night in the garage. Now stand up, boy. You will prepare our lunch"
"Yes, Master," boy responds as he stands up.
I give boy instructions on what to fix for lunch and to take two of the frozen salmon steaks out of the freezer to thaw for our dinner later in the day. Boy walks over to the counter, not slowly, but with what seems to me to be determination as if he wants to show me his willingness to do as he is told. The site of his now rosy ass as he reaches into the cupboards and refrigerator to get the ingredients for the lunch inspires a warm glow in my crotch. As he diligently works at the task of preparing our lunch, I can tell from his erratic breathing that he is struggling to keep from crying. Maybe, I think, the hurt he feels is less the result of the belt whipping but more from knowing that he displeased me. I put the Kindle reader on the table and continue to watch boy. I ask myself: What did the whipping mean for boy? I enjoyed whipping that ass, but I was not angry while doing it, irritated, yes, but not angry. Perhaps the pain of each stroke I administered gave him some kind of masochistic release, somehow making atonement for his lack of diligence. I continue to ponder on this fascinating aspect of my relationship with boy - does he need, even want, this control I exert over virtually every aspect of his life? I realize that every moment he is with me provides a tentative answer to that question.
Boy brings over two plates with the sandwiches on them, places one in front of me and the other at his place on the table. He goes back to the counter and brings back two more plates with the cut fruit and places them on the table. As he begins to kneel I tell him to bring two glasses of water to the table. After he places the glasses on the table he kneels in front of me.
"Looks like you did a good job, boy, " I tell him. "I am hungry so get up and sit at your place and let's enjoy this meal."
"Yes, Master," boy responds as he stands up. He walks over to his chair and with apparent care, slides his sore ass onto his chair putting his hands to his side. He stares at his plate waiting for me to start eating. I pick up the sandwich and take a bite. Boy picks up his sandwich and begins eating. Unlike his usual manner when eating, he takes his time. His painful experience seems to have dulled his appetite.
I am impressed with the obvious care boy has taken in preparing the sandwiches and I take my time eating. When I have eaten the last of the fruit and take a drink of water, boy has just finished eating and puts his hands to his side.
"A most satisfactory meal," I announce, rubbing my stomach. "When you have finished drinking your water," I tell boy, "you are to clean the kitchen thoroughly. After you have put all the food away and put away all the appliances, you are to scrub the counters and sink until they shine. Do you understand, boy?"
"Yes, Master," boy responds.
"Good," I tell him as I stand up. "When you have finished cleaning the kitchen you are to go into the den." I pick up the Kindle reader and walk out of the kitchen into the den.
I sit at my desk and turn on the computer intending to spend the next couple of hours browsing through my favorite news sites and blogs. I start browsing, but I cannot help thinking about this relationship I have with boy. I sit back and consider how I feel right now. I realize that since boy has been with me my life at home has been richer and more fulfilling than I had ever experienced before. That I control every aspect of his physical life, I admit, is an important aspect of the sense of well-being that I experience. More than that, however, I feel a real sense of 'rightness' to boy's submission to my needs and wants. When I kiss him or bury my cock in his ass or mouth, I never sense any reluctance on boy's part. To the contrary, he wordlessly communicates a genuine need to be filled with my cock and tongue. I do not know whether my perception of boy's willingness to submit is just my wishful imagination. Each moment in each day seems to present an opportunity to discover whether this perception I have is a reflection of how boy really feels.
I continue these thoughts for a while. I hear the thump and hum of the dishwasher starting up, and I smile. Boy is, indeed, doing as instructed. I turn my attention to the computer and start reading the news. I am fully involved in blogging on the news when, I see boy walk into the den. I look at the time. Almost two hours have passed since I sat down at the computer. Boy starts walking towards where I am sitting, but I point to the middle of the floor in the den.
"Kneel over there, boy," I instruct him. "and keep your head down while kneeling."
Boys says nothing as his shoulders drop and he slowly walks to the middle of the room and kneels, puts his hands on his ankles and lowers his head. I watch him for a few minutes. He tentatively raises his head.
"Keep your head down, boy," I tell him with some firmness. "I am still deciding whether to put you in the garage out of my sight."
"Yes, Master," boy responds, his voice shaking. I see that he is crying.
I put my attention back to the computer and continue blogging. I struggle, successfully, to keep from looking over at boy. I want him to feel the pain of being ignored as if he was not there. I continue blogging for quite a while when I feel the need to piss and shit. I stand up and start walking out of the den, not looking at boy or saying anything to him. As I walk toward the bedroom, I think to myself that the need to empty my bowels came at a good time. I walk in the bathroom and lower my pants and sit on the toilet. As my bowel empties I know that I want the pleasure of having boy kiss my ass and tongue-fuck my ass hole. An important part of my pleasure will be giving boy an opportunity to show his devotion. Maybe his reaction will reinforce my perception of his need to submit. I want my ass to be clean - the thought of boy licking and swallowing my shit does not turn me on. When my bowels are empty, I stand up, flush the toilet and leaving my pants down, stand in front of the sink. Turning on the hot water tap, I take a washcloth, run it under the tap and squirt a goodly amount of the liquid soap onto the washcloth. I scrub my ass thoroughly and, after rinsing the soap from the washcloth, I remove the soapy residue from my ass. I pull up my pants and zip up.
I walk into the kitchen. The counters literally sparkle, they are that clean. I check the dishwasher: it is empty so all the dishes have been put away. The only object in the kitchen sink is a bowl full of water with the frozen salmon steaks, still enclosed in their plastic wrapping, thawing for our dinner. I also note that the refrigerator door has been scrubbed shiny clean. I smile, feeling the warm glow of satisfaction. Boy did an excellent job of cleaning, indicating a genuine desire on his part to please me. I walk into the den. I see that boy is struggling not to look up. I walk in front of him and plant my feet in front of his knees.
"Okay, boy," I say to him, keeping my voice low. "Take down my pants."
"Yes, Master" boy responds as he looks up. His cheeks are wet from his tears, and he is smiling, whether from relief or anticipation, I am not sure. My cock starts getting had as he unbuttons my pants and pulls down the zipper. My pants fall at my feet. Boy kisses the tip of my cock. He licks the head of my cock, and then closes his lips around my cock head and tries to press his tongue into my piss slit. I put my hands under his chin and raise his head up.
"What do you worship, boy?" I ask him.
"Your cock, Master. Your slave worships your cock, Master," boy responds with undeniable passion in his voice.
"This afternoon, boy," I tell him "you are to worship my ass as well as my cock. You need to kiss and lick each ass cheek until I am satisfied that you have shown true devotion. Then, I may permit you to use your lips and tongue to seek the treasure that is buried between my ass cheeks"
I put my hands to my side and turn around. Boy says nothing, but immediately presses his lips to my left ass cheek, and sucks gently as he kisses and licks. He moves his lips down, and kisses and licks. He repeats these kisses several times, before moving over to my right ass cheek. I feel his hands on my ass.
"Hands on your ankles, boy," I tell him softly, "just your lips and tongue on my ass."
Boy puts hands back on his ankles without interrupting his kisses. Each kiss seems more ardent then the last, either he is enjoying this or is wanting to please me. I put my hands on my ass cheeks and pull them apart. Boy immediately licks the top of my ass crack and works his tongue down until it touches my hole. He swipes his tongue over the lips of my hole, letting out a quiet moan as he does this, My body shivers with pleasure as his tongue licks my hole. I lean back, encouraging boy to go deeper with his tongue. I feel boy's lips against my hole. As he kisses my hole, he presses his tongue into my hole . I try to relax my ass muscles as I gently push back. I know I want to experience the pleasure of his tongue breaching my sphincter muscle. Boy breaths heavily through his nose, his warm breath adding another element to the pleasure I am experiencing, and I hear and feel him softly humming, as he struggles to get his tongue deeper into my hole. I close my eyes, almost lost in the pleasure that is washing through my body, and lose track of time. After a few minutes, I feel my sphincter muscle relax letting in boy's tongue, and next contract around boy's tongue. I savor this invasion - the closest boy will ever be to fucking me - for several seconds and then slowly straighten up. As I turn around, boy has his eyes focused on my cock. Without instruction, boy kisses the length of my cock, from my pubes to the tip, and then licks the tip. He opens his mouth and leans his head forward, ready to swallow my cock. I step back. Boy stares at my cock, a disappointed look on his face.
"Put my pants back on, boy." I instruct him.
Boy brings his hands around and starts pulling my pants up my legs. Just before the pants cover my still hard cock, boy kisses my cock and then opening his mouth. I use my hand and push my cock down.
"Just finish getting these pants on me, boy," I instruct him. Boy pulls the pants over my cock, buttons the pants and pull up the zipper. I lean over, but one arm under his knees and the other under his shoulders and lift him up, pressing him into my chest. Cradled like a baby in my arms, boy puts his arm around my neck, his face upturned with a look of longing, and I give him a deep and passionate kiss. With boy in my arms, I walk over to the couch and sit down. Boy settles his ass into my lap, his arm still around my neck, and kisses my chest. I kiss and bite the back of his neck, leaving a red hicky. Boy moans as he looks up. I give him another deep kiss, communicating just how pleased I felt.
"You will sleep in my bed tonight, boy" I whisper into his ear.
"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master," boy responds, his voice shaking, as he wiggles his ass over my still hard, but covered, cock. I hug boy into my chest for several minutes as he licks and kisses my chest. I lift boy off my lap and guide him onto the floor where he assumes the kneeling position. I walk over to my desk and pick up the Reader and the iPod and walk over to my reading chair. I get comfortable in the chair, my thoughts on the pleasure I experienced during the last hour. I look over at boy, kneeling facing the couch with his head down.
"Come over here, boy," I instruct him.
"Yes, Master," boy responds as he stands up. He walks quickly over to where I am sitting and starts to kneel.
"Sit with your back to the chair, boy," I instruct him. "We will relax for awhile before dinner."
Saying nothing, boy turns around and lowers his ass to the floor and spread his legs in front of him. I put my legs under his arms, cross them over his chest, squeezing his upper body tight against the chair. Boy kisses my hand as I give him the iPod. He holds the iPod in both hands for a couple of minutes without turning it on. His breathing sounds shaky, almost as if he were trying not to cry. I wonder to myself whether this is because he is relieved or happy. Boy turns on the iPod and is quickly engrossed in a game and starts letting out little squeals of delight or frustration, depending on what is happening in the game. I turn on my Reader, and my mind is off boy and into the events within the novel.
Feeling the faint pangs of hunger, I look at the clock. It is just after six. Boy remains engrossed in his game and I wonder how he could remain entertained so long just playing electronic games. I put the reader down on the table next to my chair and reach over boy's shoulder and put my hand on the iPod. Boy jerks his head back at the interruption of his game.
"Time to fix dinner, boy," I tell him.
"Yes, Master," boy responds as he slowly pulls his legs up and starts to stand up.
"I want you to bake the thawed salmon steaks and microwave a package of the mixed vegetables. We will have the cheese cake that is in the refrigerator for dessert."
"Yes, Master," boy responds. As he walks towards the kitchen I admire his ass, still showing the rosy marks of the whipping earlier in the day, and I begin to anticipate the enjoyable fucking I am going to give him this evening.
I follow boy out of the den and when we are in the kitchen, realizing that I am behind him, boy turns around and starts to kneel. "Just start the dinner, boy," I tell him. "I trust you remember the proper way to prepare the salmon steaks."
"Yes, Master," boy responds. "Your slave remembers."
"Good," I respond. "Just get to it and I will have the pleasure of watching your handsome masculinity while you work."
Saying nothing, boy turns. walks to the sink and starts preparing the salmon steaks. I sit down and as I watch him work I remember those first weeks after I took possession of him. One of the major tasks I had to train him to do was to prepare the meals. My eating requirements are pretty straight forward. I eat to live not the other way around. So the meals are simple, usually frozen prepared meals but sometimes, like today, something that has to be prepared. Those first few weeks I inserted the training dildo up his ass while he learned how to fix the meals. When he failed to listen or follow directions, I had the dildo emit a painful electric shock which always brought him to his knees in agony. I would reward him by having the dildo vibrate against his prostate. When so rewarded, boy would have to stop what he was doing and struggle not to touch his cock. With the pain and pleasure of the training dildo and, on occasion, a whipping, boy learned to become a passable chef in my kitchen. In those first weeks, boy had to eat his meals kneeling next to my chair with his plate on the floor. I allowed him to use a knife and fork but eating this way was awkward and sometimes messy. After about the fourth week of training, when I was satisfied that he had learned the proper ways of the kitchen, I gave him the privilege of sitting at the table to eat.
Watching boy diligently work is not just satisfying but an erotic delight. I realize that as much as I enjoy the physical sex with boy ,the sight and smell of his body is foreplay which I find almost as pleasurable and fulfilling as the sex itself. My cock is comfortably hard, and I savor the sensation, letting my desire grow until, later tonight, I will have him next to me in my bed. I lose track of time with these erotic thoughts and am a little surprised when I watch boy walk over to the table with two plates. He puts one plate at my place, and I note, with satisfaction, the salmon and vegetables steaming on the plate. He puts the other plate at his place on the table and kneels next to my chair and lowers his head. I look over at the counter to see that he has brewed a pot of coffee and has two other plates on the counter, each with a slice of the cheese cake. I run my hand through the strip of hair on his head and squeeze the back of his neck.
"Looks great, boy," I tell him. "Stand up and then sit down at your place and let's enjoy this meal."
"Yes, Master," he responds as he gets to his feet. He walks over to his chair and carefully slides his ass onto the seat. I look at his encaged cock and see that it is turgid and pressing against its plastic cage. I wonder if he has been experiencing erotic thoughts, too. Boy puts his hands to his side and focuses on his plate, waiting, as he knows he must, for me to start eating before he can eat.
I take a bite of the salmon steak, and I watch boy dig into his meal with the usual gusto. I find the meal tasty and take my time eating. Boy has cleaned his plate minutes before I am through and sits with his hands to his side. I finish the last of the food on the plate and sit back, feeling satisfied.
"Bring the coffee and dessert, boy," I instruct him.
"Yes, Master," boy responds as he quickly stands up and walks over the counter. After he has put the coffee cups and dessert plates on the table, he stands next to me with his hands behind his back. He does not need to be reminded to do this. He just does it.
"Why do I have you stand here when you bring me coffee, boy?" I ask him. This question has become a kind of mantra in the last few days, but I want to hear him tell me what purpose he serves standing there.
"Master," he responds, "Master may want to milk his slave's cock for fresh cream for his coffee."
"Tell me why I cannot milk your cock right now, boy."
"Your slave's cock is in a plastic cage, Master," he responds, lowering his head.
"Why did I put a cage on your cock, boy?"
"Your slave touched his cock without your permission Master."
"I know I would like fresh cream for my coffee right now, boy. I am not pleased that, because of your disobedience, I cannot milk your cock. Tell me how you feel about not getting your cock milked."
"Your slave wishes he had not touched his cock without your permission, Master. I will never again touch my cock without your permission, Master," he responded, his voice shaking. "Your slave's cock aches to be milked, Master."
"Come next Monday I will not be denied your fresh cream for my coffee. No matter what, the cage will come off next Monday. Now, sit down and eat the dessert and drink the coffee."
As I eat the cheese cake I instruct boy to thoroughly clean the kitchen after he has finished his dessert and then come into the den. I finish the cake, pick up my coffee cup and walk into the den. I sit down at my desk and turn on the computer. I have decided to start a journal of sorts, to start describing how I feel about my relationship with boy. I feel like I want to write a long poem - I have never written poetry, but my enchantment with boy has a poetic quality. I ponder this for a long time while not touching the keyboard, staring at the blank screen on my monitor. I cannot find the words that ache to be expressed. I finally type words. I look at what I have typed, and I realize I am writing as if talking to boy. "You must never hide your manly comeliness from my admiring eyes, boy ...." Somehow the words do not express how I feel, and I know I will have to struggle and work to find the right words.
I do not know how much time has passed when I see boy walk into the den. He walks over to my chair and kneels, puts his hands on his ankles and lowers his head. I ignore his presence for several minutes, still struggling to find words to type. I look down at boy, my sight moving from his shaved scalp, down his back to his ass cheeks which hide his alluring rosebud.
"Go over to my reading chair, boy," I tell him. "Sit on the floor with your back to the seat of the chair. The iPod is on the table next to the chair. You may entertain yourself with games while I do some writing on the computer."
"Yes, Master," he responds as he stands up. I watch his muscular ass twitch enticingly as he walks over to my chair. He picks up the iPod and sits on the floor with his legs in front of him. Within moments, he is engrossed in a game, and I return to my writing.
I type in the words as they come to my mind but, so far, nothing I see on the screen comes close to telling what is in my soul. I sit back and think about how I feel. I am not frustrated but feel very determined. What I want to say will take work and time, and I decide that devoting some of my free time to this project over the next few days will be gratifying. I look at the time in the corner of my monitor. I have been enjoying this task for more than two hours.
I turn my head and look over at boy. He is squirming in discomfort and keeping his head down, looking at me. I know he must have an urgent need to relieve his bladder.
"Get up, boy," I instruct him. "Go to the master bath. You may piss but not shit and do not flush the toilet."
Yes, Master," boy responds, his tone expressing his relief. As he walks out of the den I remind him to return to the den when he is finished. In less than five minutes, boy walks into the den. I instruct him to resume his position on the floor in front of my reading chair and continue playing his games.
I watch boy resume his position on the floor and start playing his games. As I look at him, I know the motivation that lies behind my need to describe my feelings about him, The fascinating aspect is that I can only know him through my senses. I take in his erotic masculine beauty with my eyes, I smell his intoxicating odor that wafts from his body. I taste every part of his delicious body, and I feel every part of his body, outside and inside, with my hands and, especially, my cock. I hear his breathing, his sighs, his moans of pleasure and his sobs of pain. These sensations are the closest I get to knowing him. While I see him, smell him, taste him and feel him to my heart's content, I would like to hear more from him. I have trained him that 'silence is golden', and I punish him when he speaks without permission. So his words are few and to the point: "Yes, Master," "I understand, Master" when I have given him instructions or a few more words when I ask him a question. I realize that when I hear him speak his dreams out loud I will have a deeper understanding of who he is.
I turn back to my computer and continue the not unpleasant task of struggling to find the words to describe this relationship. I am engrossed in this task for some time when I look at the time on my computer screen. It is a little after 11:00PM. I look over at boy. He is concentrating on a game and, again, I wonder how he could keep himself entertained in that way.
"Time for bed, boy," I tell him as I stand up and stretch. "Put the game on the table, get up and go into the master bath."
"Yes, Master," he responds as he stands up and puts the iPod on the table next to the chair. As he walks by me on the way out of the den, I squeeze his ass cheek with one hand and press my coffee cup onto his chest with the other. "Take the cup to the kitchen, boy, and then to the bathroom."
"Yes, Master," he responds as takes my cup. I see a soft smile upon his face.
I turn out the lights in the den after powering off the computer and walk towards the bedroom. Boy is behind me when I walk into the bedroom. I turn around and, before he can kneel, I instruct him to walk into the bathroom and sit on the toilet. I tell him that he is to relieve himself but not to flush the toilet. As boy walks into the bathroom, I walk over to the side of my bed and turn on the lamp on the table next to the bed. I take off my pants and shirt, kicking them into the corner. Boy can put them away tomorrow morning. Boy is sitting on the toilet when I walk into the bathroom. He is not sure what to do as he is obviously involved in a bowel movement. I cross my arms across my chest.
"Just finish relieving yourself, boy," I tell him. "Then get up and fill the enema bag with warm water and get into the shower area."
After about two minutes, boy has finished relieving himself and stands up. He picks of the enema bag and steps over the bathroom sink, turns on the hot water tap and start billing the bag. I look in the toilet bowl. To my satisfaction, the bowl is filled with boy's soft shit. I flush the toilet and sit down on the toilet to have my own bowel movement. Boy walks into the shower area, hangs the enema bag over the shower head and kneels facing me.
"Stand up, boy," I tell him. "Release the valve on the enema bag. I want to see the flow."
"Yes, Master," boy responds as he stands up and releases the valve on the enema bag. The water flows out of the enema tube.
"Push the tube up your ass boy and hold it tight for a few seconds." I instruct him.
Saying nothing, boy presses the tube into his ass crack, the water gushing down his crack onto his balls but stops in a few seconds when the tube is deep in his ass. After less than a minute, satisfied that his colon is filled with water, I instruct him to close the valve, remove the tube and squat, with his ass facing me, over the shower drain. I have him hold the water for several seconds and then tell him to release. The water gushes out of his ass, a soft brown color. I have him repeat the procedure two more times. With the third release, the water is clear.
"OK, boy," I tell him. Take a quick shower and then get yourself dry."
While he is showering, I stand up and thoroughly wipe my own ass and flush the toilet. I put the toilet seat down and sit back on the toilet seat. Boy is drying himself with a towel as I do this. When he has finished drying himself, he walks in front of me and turns around. He is anticipating what I want to do, which is alright with me.
"Bend over, boy," I tell him as I pick up the bottle of lubricant, "and put your hands on your ankles."
I press back one of his ass cheeks with my free hand and see his rosebud winking enticingly. I pour a good amount of the lubricant at the top of his ass crack, put the bottle down, and press the lubricant into his ass with my fingers. Boy lets out a soft moan as I insert one, then two, fingers into his rosebud. I press my fingers into his ass until I feel the bulge of his prostate. Boy moans as I gently massage the prostate. I remove my fingers, give his ass a soft slap and tell him to turn around and kneel. Boy turns around, kneels with his hands on his ankles, and head down.
"What do you worship, boy?" I ask him.
"Your slave worships your cock, Master," he responds.
I stand up. "Show your devotion, boy," I instruct him.
I feel his lips press the top of my cock and slowly work down. I close my eyes as my cock grows hard with his touch. He licks the tip of my cock and then presses his lips onto my ball sack. I put my hands under his arms and raise him to his feet.
"Into the bedroom, boy," I tell him.
I follow boy int0 the bedroom. When he reaches the foot of the bed, I put my around his chest and guide him onto the bed. He lays with his back to my chest, and i gently raise his upper leg and guide my cock into his ass crack. I nibble his neck as my cock finds his rosebud. I push my cock against the rosebud and feel his sphincter muscle relax. I want to savor the sensation, and slowly push my cock forward. When my pubes touch his ass I wait a few second and then start to piston my cock. Boy softly moans when my cock rubs his prostate. I hug boy's back into my chest and continue to fuck him, pausing when i feel close to ejaculation. I do not know how long I lasted, not long enough. With a wonderful jolt, my cock explodes. I close my eyes, enjoying the warm sensation surrounding my slowly deflating cock.