Date: Sat, 8 Sep 2012 21:52:45 -0500
From: Steve Street <rssmaster@cox.net>
Subject: The faint aroma of soap - Part 11

"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.