Date: Mon, 4 Jun 2012 14:16:17 -0500
From: Steve Street <rssmaster@cox.net>
Subject: The faint aroma of soap 6

I stretch my legs. I wait a few minutes, enjoying the feel of boy's warm
breath on my neck, then move his arm from my chest and give him a gentle
nudge. Boy stretches as he wakes up. I push the bed covers off with my legs
as he opens his eyes. Sleepily, he moves his head down my chest and abdomen
until his lips touch my cock. He knows from his training that before he can
get up he must kiss and lick my cock. As his tongue gently bathes my cock,
which I enjoy very much, i have a growing urge to piss.  I have trained boy
to do many things, and I wonder why I never trained him to drink my morning
piss. I push boy away from my cock and tell him to get up. Both of us get
up, and he follows me into the bathroom and kneels while I piss. I motion
for him to sit on the toilet and while his strong piss stream splashes into
the water, I tell him that when he has relieved his bladder to go to the
kitchen and prepare our breakfast. I instruct him that I want soft-boiled
eggs and toast. Finishing his piss, boy gets up, and before he can kneel, I
give his ass a gentle slap and tell him to get going. As boy walks out the
bathroom door towards the kitchen, I start brushing my teeth.

As I shower, my thoughts focus on what I am going to do today. I will be
going to my office this morning. I have a modest, but successful,
investment firm which I started up with two partners almost fifteen years
ago. Two year ago, I bought my partners out and, as a result, I am the sole
owner of the company. I focused the mission of the firm to make investments
that had long-term benefits, shunning the temptation to make a lot more
money with risky, short term, investments. I learned early that you cannot
make money without people, so I concentrated on recruiting a small team of
competent individuals who could manage the operations without me being
there all the time. I appointed one as president, to run the day to day
operations, and I gave myself the title of CEO. Max, the president,
e-mailed me yesterday requesting that I come into the office today as he
and the team wanted my input on a significant investment they were
considering.

I turn off the shower, grab a towel and rub my body dry - thinking as I do
so how I enjoy the touch of boy as he dries my back and balls and kisses my
cock but this morning I have him making breakfast instead. I look into the
bathroom mirror and begin applying the pre-electric lotion to my face. Ever
since my first shave as a teenager, until now, I have always shaved with an
electric razor. As I shave I consider the tasks I want boy to complete
while I am out of the house. I finish shaving and walk into the bedroom and
into the large closet. Turning on the closet light, I consider which suit I
will wear today. I always have been something of a nut about dressing,
particularly when I work, and my closet is filled with designer suits,
shirts and ties. Unless I take boy out to eat or go to the movies, or we
are jogging, I wear a suit when I leave the house. I select a suit, shirt
and tie and start dressing. With everything on, I pick up the suit jacket,
sling it over my shoulder, and walk out of the bedroom towards the
kitchen. I take a detour into the den and take the second cell phone from
the top of my desk and put it into my suit coat pocket.

When I walk into the kitchen, boy, as expected, is kneeling facing the
entrance. The table is set for the two of us, the boiled eggs nestling in
the small bowls and a stack of whole-wheat bread toast in the middle of the
table along with a jar of jam. Iput my coat over the back of one of the
kitchen chairs, walk around and sit at my usual place. I tell boy to get up
and sit in his chair. As boy gets up I see how the plastic cage encasing
his cock pushes his cock back against his hairless balls which dangle
alluringly. Boy sits down with care, he obviously has learned that he does
not want the cage pinching as he sits. I start eating and so does boy, and
we eat in silence. Having my fill of eggs and toast, I instruct boy to get
up and pour a cup of coffee for each of us. Boy goes to the counter, fills
the cups with the freshly brewed coffee, and returns placing my cup in
front of me and his next to his plate. I tell boy to remain standing.

I take a sip of the coffee, wait for a moment, and flick my finger hard
against the plastic cage on his cock. I ask boy to tell me when he can
touch his cock. He responds, quickly but quietly, no doubt worried about a
possible whipping, and tells me that he can only touch his cock with my
permission. I tell him that because he disobeyed that rule, he is depriving
me of the pleasure of his fresh cream in my coffee. I tell him he must wear
that cage on his cock for at least thirteen days more and during that time,
I will not have the pleasure of his tasty cream, the pleasure of seeing his
attractive appendage sway between his legs and thicken when I touch it. I
ask boy to tell me what he thinks of that situation. His voice softly
cracks, trying to restrain sobs, as he tells me that he wishes he had not
disobeyed the rule, and that he would never again touch his cock without my
permission.

I tell boy to sit. After he is seated, I sip my coffee and lay out the
tasks he is to perform while I am out of the house. I tell him that, after
cleaning up the kitchen, he is to go to the master bedroom, put clean
sheets on the bed, vacuum the rug and dust all the furniture. I tell him
that, as I was dressing this morning, I noticed cobwebs on the window
sills, and that he must wash the sills and clean the venetian blinds. When
the bedroom is finished, he is to clean the bathroom, scrubbing the floor
and walls of the shower, cleaning the toilet, the sink and to make sure the
mirror is sparkling clean. I tell him that I would be back sometime between
two or three this afternoon, and that I expect his body to be thoroughly
cleansed, inside and out, when I return. While I am gone, I continue, he
has my permission to eat whatever he wants if he gets hungry.

I stand up and boy slips out of his chair and onto his knees. I walk around
and pick up my suit coat. Reaching into the coat pocket, I take out the
cell phone, placing it on the table. I tell boy that he has permission to
telephone me at any time if he has questions or concerns. I instruct him
that if the phone rings he is to answer but that if it is not me calling he
is to take a message and is to have no extended conversation. Saying
nothing more, I walk out of the kitchen into the garage where my car is
parked.

As I drive into the office, my thoughts drift away from house and boy. My
company is my second love. More than the comfortable income, I enjoy
tackling the financial transactions and overseeing the firm's operations.
I park my car in the reserved parking area of the office complex and take
the elevator to my office. As i step out of the elevator, the receptionist
gives me a familiar and warm greeting - she has been with us for some time
- and she tells me that the team is waiting for me in the conference
room. I go to my office first, giving my secretary - who I depend on to
keep the office staff productive - a quick peck on the cheek as she
cheerily greets me. I study the paper work on my desk, quickly dispatching
most of it and as I walk to the conference room, give the rest to my
secretary.

The conference proved stimulating and productive. Max had ordered a catered
lunch to be delivered and we spend all that morning and the early part of
the afternoon going over the details of the proposed transaction.  We made
our decision and I tell the team they did an excellent job. As the team
members left the conference to their respective offices, I look at my watch
- it is just past two in the afternoon. I walk back to my office, check to
see if there was any other paperwork on my desk. There being none I walk
out to the elevator, telling my secretary that if anything comes up that
needs my attention, she can, as usual get me on my cell phone or e-mail me.

I pull into my garage at home, noting that it was just after three in the
afternoon. I walk into the kitchen and see boy rush through the other
entrance and drop to his knees. I walk over to him and run my hand over his
head and ask him if he has eaten. He tells me he ate about an hour ago. I
walk over to the refrigerator and pick out one of the cups of yogurt and
take a quick survey of the refrigerator's contents. I think that we will
have to go to the store tomorrow and stock up on food. I remove the lid on
the yogurt container, get a spoon from the drawer, and, without sitting
down, start eating. I tell boy to get up and go to the master bedroom and
wait for me there. Boy gets up and quietly walks out of the kitchen. I
finish the yogurt in a couple of minutes, throw the empty container in the
trash and walk out of the kitchen towards the bedroom. I go first to the
workout room and pick up my gym shorts and gym shoes.

I walk into the bedroom and stand in front of boy. He is kneeling at the
foot of the bed with his hands clasped on his ankles and his head down.
After putting my gym shorts on the bed and the gym shoes on the floor, I
take off my suit jacket and take an appraising look around the room. Boy
has done a great job, and I think to myself, as I did yesterday, wondering
what goes through boy's mind. This work he has done was not done just
because he must, the result seems to me to indicate a sense of wanting to
do a good job. I put my jacket on the bed and tell boy that we are going to
jog this afternoon, and that I needed to change my clothes.  Knowing what I
meant, boy moves his hands from his ankles and starts untying the lace of
my left shoe as I remain standing. Removing the shoe and sock, boy kisses
the top of my left foot and then does the same for my right foot. Boy
stands up, and I notice him smiling as he carefully removes my tie and
hands it to me. I place the tie next to the suit coat as boy unbutton my
shirt. When he has unbuttoned the cuffs, I pull the shirt off putting it on
the bed. Boy softly kisses my chest as he slowly lowers to his knees. He
unbuckles my belt and removes it, handing the belt to me. He unbuttons my
pants and pulls down the zipper and guides my pants down, kissing the bulge
in my jockey underwear as he does this, until the pants are around my
feet. I step out of my pants, and he hands them to me, and I place the
pants and belt on the bed and pick up my gym shorts. Handing my shorts to
boy, he puts them down next to my feet, and I step into the shorts. He
pulls the shorts up, again kissing the bulge in my underwear before pulling
them all the way up. I tell boy to go to the dresser and get clean gym
socks.  Boy gets up, walks to the dresser and returns with the socks and
kneels. As I remain standing, he puts the socks and gym shoes on my feet,
lacing the shoes tightly. I instruct boy to put my clothes away and then go
to the workout room, gets his shoes and socks and return to the bedroom. I
watch him go to the closet, retrieve a hanger and carefully put my suit on
the hanger and return to the closet to hang up my suit. As boy walks out of
the bedroom, I walk over to the dresser and opening the drawer that
contains boy's clothes, select the lycra shorts I want him to wear and a
tank top. I pull out one of my t-shirts from another drawer and pull it on.

In a few moments, boy returns to the bedroom with the shoes and socks in
his hand, kneels and puts the shoes and socks on the floor next to him. I
hand boy the lycra shorts and tell him to put them on and then put on his
socks and shoes. He does not get up, but sits on his ass with his legs in
front and pulls the shorts on, raising his ass up just high enough to get
the shorts around his waist.  Remaining on his ass, he puts on his socks
and shoes. I hand him the tank top and pulls it on. I tell him to stand
up. The lycra shorts are just tight enough around his crotch to show a
slight outline of the cock cage. I put my hand on his crotch, tell him he
is a good-looking boy, and then give him a quick kiss. I motion at boy to
follow me. We walk through the house and out the front door to begin our
jog.

My house is located on the edge of the suburbs, only a few houses near
it. The nearest house is maybe 400 feet away. One of the attractive
features of the area is the nature trail that curves through the
surrounding woods. Wide enough for two people to walk, run or jog side by
side, the trail meanders for about two miles in a sort of circle - if you
walk or run the entire length you end up where you started. No bikes are
allowed on the trail, only walkers or runners and is pretty popular. There
is a parking area near the trail, and people drive out from other parts of
the city to walk the trail. I walk briskly about 100 yards to the trail and
begin to jog, boy just behind me to my left.  When I reach the thickly
wooded area, I slow to a walk, enjoying the smells and sounds. Few walkers
are on the trail this afternoon, but I turn to boy and tell him to walk
behind me so that others can walk or jog past us.  As I say this, I see a
young woman jogging behind us. She gives us a quick wave of her hand as she
jogs past us. I continue to walk for a few feet and then start
jogging. When we reach that part of the trail where the trees surrounding
the trail are so thick that their lush green leaves all but block out the
sun, I stop.

I step off the trail and lean against one of the trees. I instruct boy
tosprint as fast as he can up to where the trail makes a sharp turn, and
sprint back to me. The distance to the turn I guess to be about 100
yards. Immediately, boy slightly bends his knees, tenses his leg muscles
and starts to sprint, I can tell that he is making an effort to sprint fast
- and I wonder whether he is doing that to impress me, or because he likes
doing it. Maybe, I think to myself, he is doing it for both reasons. In a
little over a minute, boy is back, panting slightly and his sweat leaving a
slight streak down the front of his tank top. I give him a few seconds to
catch his breath and then instruct him to repeat the sprint. When he
returns, I tell him to sprint again. When boy stands in front of me after
completing the third sprint, he is panting heavily and his tank top is now
soaked in his sweat. I tell boy to turn around facing the trail and to
stand next to me with his hands behind his back. I want to give boy a
couple of minutes rest before resuming our jog. Just then, I see a youngish
guy jogging towards us. He is shirtless, wearing tight shorts that hug his
crotch. As he jogs past us, I see him give boy a lascivious stare and lick
his lips.  I confess that when boy is with me outside of the house, I put
boy in positions to show off his features. I get a rush when someone
indicates an appreciation of the quality of my possession In those moments,
I feel pride of ownership, that I own boy; his physical attributes are for
others to envy and for me to totally and exclusively enjoy.

I wait a few more minutes and then tell boy to follow behind me and I start
to jog. I jog without stopping until we have arrived back where we started
and I slow to a walk. I walk slowly until we reach the front door of our
house. I open the front door, and we walk in. I turn around and close the
door as I tell boy to strip off his clothes and take them to the laundry
room and to return to the kitchen. As boys strips off his clothes, I walk
into the kitchen and sit at the table. Boy walks in from the laundry room
and kneels in front of me. I tell him to get up and prepare a protein
smoothie for each of us.

Boy gets up and walks over to the refrigerator, and I tell him that I want
raspberries and plenty of shelled almonds in the smoothie. The sweat on
boy's body glistens in the afternoon sunlight pouring through the kitchen
window. As I watch his lithe body as he prepares the smoothies, I think I
know what must have been in that young jogger's thoughts as he gave boy
that stare while jogging by. Unlike the jogger, I will have boy delighting
me with his physical attributes before this afternoon turns into evening.

Boy pours two glasses full with the smoothie mixture and walks over to the
table putting one glass in front of me and the other at his place. I tell
him to sit. Again, he sits down slowly, sliding butt first into the chair
to keep the cock cage from pinching. I take a sip of the smoothie and boy
drinks almost half of his glass in quick gulps, and I smile. When I finish
the drink, I instruct boy to go to the master bath, that he can piss and if
he needs to, have a bowel movement, and not to flush the toilet. He is to
take a shower to get the sweat off his body, dry his body, and wait for me
there.

I lustfully watch boy's back and ass as he walks out of the kitchen, and I
then take off my shoes and socks, Picking up the shoes and socks, I walk
out to the laundry room, strip off my clothes and put them with the large
pile of dirty laundry. I make a mental note to have boy do the laundry as
part of next morning's tasks before we go shopping. When I walk into the
master bath, boy is just standing up from the toilet and starts to kneel. I
tell him not to kneel and to get on with his shower. As boy starts to
shower I look into the toilet and note, with satisfaction, that he had a
bowel movement leaving a long, light brown turd at the bottom under the now
yellow toilet water. Observing the results of boy's bowel movements is not
a fetish on my part - I use the observation as one of the measures I take
to monitor his health. I want to see no blood, and that it has not come out
in lumps. I sit down on the toilet and have my own bowel movement and empty
my now full bladder. I continue sitting on the toilet and tell boy to use
plenty of soap on his ass and to use his fingers to clean the rose bud that
nestles between his ass cheeks. Boy puts more soap on his left hand and
pushes his fingers between his ass cheek until they all but disappears up
his ass. After cleaning his ass, boy lets the shower water rinse off all
the soap from his body. Boy turns off the shower, steps over and picks up a
towel.  After drying off his upper body, boy presses the towel gently
against the plastic cock cage trying to get as dry as he can without
rubbing it. I am still sitting on the toilet when he has finished drying
his legs, and he walks over to kneel in front of me. I tell him to remain
standing and to put his hands behind his head.

I run my hands over his chest and note that, except for a few wisps of hair
under his arms, he has done a passable job of keeping himself smoothly
shaved. I tell boy to turn around and put his hands on his ankles. I spread
his ass cheeks with my hands and note that there a few short strands of
hair around his rose bud. The cock restraint has limited his ability to
adequately shave his balls as there are a few hairs showing on his ball
sack. I decide that in two or three days I will have to shave him myself
and apply the depilatory solution. Picking up the bottle of lubricant that
sits on the counter next the toilet, I open it and pour a generous amount
in the palm of my hand and rub the lubricant between his ass cheeks. Boy
squirms slightly as I push my fingers around and into his rose bud to get
it well lubricated. I then give boy a light slap on his ass and tell him to
kneel as I am going to shower.

I stand, flush the toilet and walk into the shower area. Boy kneels, taking
a clean towel from the rack as he does so and drapes the towel over his
arms. I enjoy the shower. The warm water helps my muscles relax and relieve
the erotic tension that pulses through me. I turn off the shower and take
the towel from boy's arms. After drying my upper body I give the towel to
boy and turn around. Boy dries my back, ass, balls and lower legs and I
turn around.  Boy does not just kiss my cock, he swabs my cock head with
his tongue, and I think he is anticipating what may be coming next. When he
has finished drying my legs, I tell boy to follow me into the bedroom.

When I reach the edge of the bed, I turn around and instruct boy to get on
the bed on his back and, with his arms around his legs, pull his legs up
until his knees just touch his shoulder. When he has assumed that position,
his ass is high and his ass cheeks spread exposing his rose bud. My cock
twitches as I watch boy flex his sphincter muscle causing the rosebud to
wink seductively. Boy has a smile of anticipation on his face, and I tell
him that he knows what turns me on.  I put my hands on his hips and pull
him down to the edge of the bed and rub my cock against the rose bud. I can
wait no longer and push my cock against the rosebud until it pops through
the sphincter muscle. I lean over onto my elbows and as I steadily push my
cock up his ass, I tell boy that I have been wanting to fuck him all
afternoon. I unhurriedly fuck his ass for quite a long time, pausing every
so often to give him a deep kiss or bite his ears or neck. Boy moans as I
push my cock in and out of his ass. After some time, I push my cock in and
out fast and hard and, soon enough, I have another great orgasm, pumping
what feels like gallons of my cream into his ass.

I stay still, letting the passion of my orgasm slowly subside as my cock
deflates. I remove my cock from boy's ass and stand up. Boy still has his
legs up, and his eyes are closed. I notice that his cock strains against
its cage and has turned a purplish red. I know that boy must be
uncomfortable. I tell boy to sit up and get to the floor as my cock needs
to be cleaned. Boy drops his legs and slips his ass off the bed and is on
his knees. He puts his hands to his back and starts licking my cock. I tell
him to put my cock in his mouth and get it good and clean. He pushes his
head forward until my cock is in the back of his throat and moves his
tongue around my cock. Usually I am very sensitive after I ejaculate but,
for some reason, boy's warm mouth sooths my cock and I have him continue
his oral ministration for several minutes.

Impressed with the gentle fervor of boy's tongue as he slowly swabs my
cock, I run my hand over his head as a swell of fondness fills my very
being. I do not just like having boy but I think I love him. I step back,
removing my cock from his mouth, and he looks up. His eyes are teary, as if
he is about to cry, and communicate a longing. I put my hands on each of
his cheeks, look into his eyes, and softly tell him to remain kneeling
while I get dressed.  I pull on a pair of khaki pants and a t-shirt and
walk over to where boy is kneeling. I lean over, put one hand under his
legs and the other under his arms and lift him up to my chest. Boy puts his
arms around my neck and is softly sobbing as he puts his head on my
shoulder. I carry him out of the bedroom and into the den and sit on the
couch with boy on my lap, still with his face pressed into my shoulder and
his arms around my neck.  I get comfortable letting boy's ass nestle
between my spread legs. Putting my hands on his cheeks, I push his head
back and kiss his face, licking up the tears that fall down his cheeks. I
reach over and pull a tissue from the box on the table next to the couch
and putting it firmly to his nose, tell him to blow out all his snot. Boy
quits crying and blows his nose. I throw the tissue onto the floor.

I tenderly kiss his lips, lean back, put my hands on his cheeks, and look
into his still teary eyes. I tell him that I am proud that he is mine. With
heartfelt sincerity, I tell him that I love him - not just for his
masculine beauty but for his desire to please me in every way that he can.
I ask him to tell me how he feels. He opens his eyes. His voice cracking
with emotion, he says "Daddy, Master I only live to please you. I feel so
complete when you touch me, kiss me and fuck me."  I feel the pride of
ownership course through me hearing these words. I realize the boy is mine,
all mine, exclusively mine, and I know that I love him all the more for his
dedication. With a firm tone, I tell him that he can depend on my whipping
him with a belt or cane when he disobeys or displeases me to remind him of
his need to dedicate everything that he is to my pleasure.

Boy puts his head on my shoulder as I hug him into my chest. I gently rub
his back and ass with one hand while holding him tight with the
other. Boy's breathing begins to slow, and I feel the muscles in his body
begin to relax. I enjoy the intimacy of his warm breath on my neck and of
his heart beat pulsing through his chest onto mine. I put aside all other
thoughts except to wonder at the pleasure I feel. I continue to hold him
close, rubbing his back and ass and licking and kissing his shoulders. His
breathing begins to sound like a soft purr, and I think he must be enjoying
this as much as I am. I am enjoying this intimacy, but I cannot ignore the
hunger pangs I feel. Somewhat unwillingly, I nudge boy's shoulders back and
lift his legs onto the floor. Boy sleepily slides to his knees, and I tell
him to pick up the tissue on the floor and go to the kitchen and prepare us
something to eat. Before getting up, boy lowers his head and kisses my
right foot and then my left foot, a gesture which pleasantly surprises
me. As I watch him walk out of the den, I realize that I did not instruct
him on what food to prepare. I smile to myself and think that, this time, I
will give him the pleasure of deciding that for himself.

When boy has left the den, I have the feeling that part of me has left with
him. Again, I think about my relationship with boy. I realize I have
developed an undeniable fondness, yes, I would call it love, for the
boy. Boy has become an integral part of my life. As I consider how I feel
for boy, I recognize that my fondness is based on his obedience to my
wants, desires and pleasure.  I know that he will inevitably disobey a rule
or instruction or, in some way, displease me. In the months I have had him
with me I do not think he ever willingly disobeyed or displeased me but
that his unthinking impulse of the moment resulted in an act of
disobedience such as touching his cock without my permission.

Since boy came under my control, I have disciplined him with a firm
whipping with a belt or the cane each time he committed an act of
disobedience or displeased me in some way. My cock begins to harden when I
think about whipping boy. Do I get pleasure when I whip boy? I ask
myself. I have to admit that I do get gratification wielding the belt or
cane on his ass and back. I have never injured boy, never drawn blood, and
I never gave him more than fifteen strokes, usually just six to ten
strokes.  Each time I whip him, I feel no reluctance. I feel satisfied.  Am
I a sadist? I ask myself. Perhaps, to some extent, I think so. What about
boy? I ask myself. What goes through his mind when he knows I am going to
whip him or while I whip him? Possibly, I think to myself, he may
experience a masochistic pleasure from the pain of the whipping. He has
never struggled or tried to get away prior to any of the whippings. Boy
just gets in the required whipping position, maybe with some reluctance,
and wordlessly waits for the inevitable strokes. After each whipping, boy
gets to his knees, and I give him permission to speak. Boy always thanks me
for the whipping - I do not know whether he does so because he knows that
is what I expect, or because he means it. I put my hand on my crotch, and I
know that I will whip boy again.

The hunger I feel drives the thoughts of whipping to the back of my mind. I
get up and walk into the kitchen. Boy is kneeling with his hands on his
ankles, and head bowed. I see that he has set the table with two places and
that food steams from the plates. I take a few moments and enjoy the sight
of the masculine beauty of boy's body. Even the cock cage, in some strange
way, adds to his attractiveness.  As I walk over to my chair, I run my
fingers through the strip of hair on boy's head and sit down. Boy has
prepared lasagna and a small salad. I tell boy to get up and sit in his
chair. Boy quickly gets up and, with obvious caution, slides into his chair
ass first and waits, hands at his side, for me to start eating.