The Journal
A week passed where things were back to normal—well our new normal anyway. The morning after the party, I hadn’t read his journal. It felt like a violation. But I didn’t stop thinking about it.
I set a rule in my head: I’d only read it if I find it out, in plain sight, and only when he’s gone. If he left it out, it was permission.
Damien worked as a bartender, so his hours were erratic. It was Saturday and he had the lunch shift. I took the opportunity to open the windows in his room and air it out as I cleaned. And to do his laundry. I preferred doing his laundry when he wasn’t there.
As I picked up his dirty socks, shirts, and underwear, I pushed them into my face. Breathing deep. It was addictive. My favorite though was the underwear he wore when he ran. He’d strip them off on his way to the shower. Wet with his sweat and still warm from his body—they were like gold to me. I’d breath through them while they dried. And hold onto them until the next laundry day.
After our ‘shift’, he’d drop his clothes wherever he happened to be—his bed, his bathroom, the living room, the kitchen. It took me a while to gather everything together. Once I had everything in the washer, I went into my room and reluctantly gathered my collection of sweat soaked underwear from under my bed. I’m sure he knew I had them, but I didn’t have permission to keep them. I pressed each to my nose before adding them to the load. After I started the washer, I went back to his room to change his sheets and tidy up.
I stripped the duvet and top sheet before I noticed it. His nightstand drawer was open. The little black notebook was right there. In plain sight, while he was out. That was the rule. I wasn’t sure if the open drawer counted as “in plain sight”. But he was definitely out.
I pulled the drawer further open and sat on his bed. I glanced at the time. His shift had just started. He wouldn’t be home for hours.
I reached into the drawer and pulled it out. I sat it on my lap and stared at it. I should ask permission, I thought as I pulled the cover open. He’d started it the night he caught me.
September 26, 2015
I fucked my best friend.
September 27, 2015
I’m starting this journal because I have to write this down. Last night, I tricked Steve sort of by accident. He thought I was some random guy responding to his online ad. I meant it as a joke. I didn’t believe he’d really do it. I told him to go to the trail near our place, strip naked and wait. Who does that? Like I figured he’d go down there thinking it’s a hook up and we’d have a laugh. I followed him. When he got there, he paced in front of the bushes that ‘Master D’ had told him to wait in. LOL I was about to jump out. Then he fucking did he. He fucking stripped! I figured he’d stop. He left his boxers on. He paced a bit and was about to get dressed then he fucking stripped off his boxers! He was shaking. I watched him count out 10 paces and stare out at the river, following Master D’s orders. I was embarrassed for him and turned on at the same time. When I stepped out, you should have seen his face. I thought he was going to cry. I should have laughed it off. Let him go. Should have but I didn’t. He’s always so in control. I enjoyed it. I made him show off, still planning to turn it into a joke. I made him bend over and spread his cheeks. I didn’t know I was going to do until I did, but I rammed my dick into him. I have a big dick. Most guys won’t let me top. I could tell it hurt but I told him to take it and he pushed me deeper. I pumped a load into his ass. As soon as I was done, I left. Now what?
It had been a joke. At first. But what happened wasn’t. He’d felt it too. That’s enough. That’s what I needed to know. I kept reading.
September 29, 2015
I took his bedroom from him. I always wanted the bigger room but I did it to see what he’d do. He helped me move my stuff. LOL I haven’t mentioned that night. I should check in with him. But maybe it was a one-time thing?
October 4, 2015
I met this guy Dylan at the gym. We’ve been on a few dates. He’s kind of a kid but hot as fuck. He’s only been over a couple of times but he caught something was off. He keeps asking me what’s up with my roommate. Like why he’s always cleaning up after me. He asked me how much I pay in rent, then asked why I have the bigger room. Maybe I shouldn’t ‘ve but I told him about the night in the bushes. It felt like bragging. He didn’t freak. He asked me if I’d fucked him again. I haven’t. I told him it’s like having a maid that I pay with my dirty underwear. I didn’t tell Dylan but I kind of like the worship. Is that wrong? Anyway, Dylan wants a demo. I told him I’d think about it. I’m not sure if I’m into Dylan or not.
October 6, 2015
Dylan’s more into than I thought. He asked if I thought Steve would strip with him there. I told him I wasn’t sure how far he’d go. Then he told me he gets off on old guy subs. He said he liked making “daddy” types crawl around. Said he’s done it a couple of times. I guess I was surprised. I hadn’t thought of this as ‘a thing’. Anyway, I told him Steve’ll probably laugh it off and go to bed but that I was into it. We’re doing it Friday night. Steve fucking asks permission to go out! Not sure how I feel about that yet.
October 10, 2015
Last night was wild. No matter how hard core I went, Steve did it. I’m not sure if he has any limits. I gave Steve to Dylan, like a gift. I told him to use him. I don’t even recognize me. Dylan throat fucked him while I watched. After the club, we went back to Dylan’s place. I fucked him—hard. I was so fucking horned up. I kept picturing his dick in Steve’s mouth while we fucked. OK, maybe not a one-time thing.
I closed the notebook. He was into it. My heart soared. He wanted this. That was what I needed to know.
The journal hit the nightstand just as I heard footsteps. My chest froze. Dylan? Now?
“Where’s the slave? I know it’s here. I was told it didn’t have permission to leave.” I waited, heart racing. I glanced again at the nightstand to make sure the drawer was fully closed.
“I should have guessed you’d be in here. Sniffing Master’s dirty underwear.” It wasn’t a question.
“I was just doing his laundry. He’s at the Hawk.”
“Yeah I know. I was looking for you.”
I waited.
“Strip.”
My gym shorts hit the ground, then my shirt. Dylan showing up during the day wasn’t unprecedented. He generally made me strip and used me to get off. I’ve given him a couple of hand jobs and several blow jobs. Today the energy was more intense. He had something planned.
“Crawl to me.”
I dropped and crawled to him. He laughed.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that. But it’s fucking hot.” He stepped into the room and sat on Damien’s bed. Leaning back. “Show me your asshole.”
I dropped my forehead to the floor and arched my back.
“Pull your cheeks apart.”
I reached back, my face pushed to the ground. He took out his phone and took pictures without asking.
“Follow me.”
He walked to the couch, sat in Damien’s spot, pointed in front of him. I crawled into place. He used me as a foot stool.
“I have a question.”
“Yes Sir.”
“Call me Master.”
“Yes Master.”
“Do you know other fags like you?”
“Sorry, Master, what do you mean?”
“I want my own old faggot to use.”
“Yes Master. But no, I don’t know anyone else.”
“Get me a water.”
“Yes Master.”
“Crawl.”
I headed to the kitchen. I felt his eyes on me. I felt weak. Anxious. I crawled back. He drank the bottled water without stopping. He made me “present” again. He stuck his finger inside me--without warning.
“Damn. Did you just douche?”
“No Master.”
“Your asshole is clean.” He started to wipe it on his jeans then, “Suck it clean.” I sucked on his finger till he pulled it out.
“Thank you, Master.”
“I liked watching you drink Damien’s piss. Been thinking about that. You liked it too.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Bring me another bottle of water.”
This time, he drank half the bottle, staring at me on my knees at his feet. He lifted a sneaker. I brought the white Nike to rest on my naked thigh. I undid the laces. I pulled it off and moved to the next. Looking up for approval when I’d finished.
“Socks too.”
I pulled his socks off.
He stood. I reached up and helped him out of his Lucky Brand jeans noting the red “Lucky You” label sewn into the fly. He was wearing boxers today. I pulled them to the floor. The air was electric.
“Lay down on your bed, ass up, put a pillow under your hips.”
“Yes, Master.” My voice was shaky.
I heard him in the kitchen. He was drinking more water.
When he walked into my bedroom, he set up a tripod to hold his phone. He was recording us.
“Beg me.”
“Please use me.”
“What?”
“Please use me Master.”
“I can do whatever I want, right slave?”
“Yes Master.”
I felt his dick.
“Pull your cheeks wide.”
I did as ordered.
He pushed his dick inside me, fast. I cried out.
“Say thank you.”
“Thank you…uh…Master” I said, catching my breath.
He didn’t thrust. He didn’t move at all. He was waiting. Then I felt it. My ass filled with his warmth.
“Tell me you’re my toilet.”
“I’m your toilet Master.”
“Louder, for the camera. Look at the camera”
I felt his piss filling my ass, spilling onto my bed. Smelled it as it soaked into my sheets. I turned my head and looked into the camera, “I’m your toilet Master Dylan.”
“Good boy”
After, I felt three sharp, deep thrusts. I felt him convulse, breeding me for the first time. He pulled out and stood over me.
He wasn’t done.
“On your knees. Face the camera.”
I was rock hard. Embarrassed by my excitement.
“Work your cock and make it cum.”
After a few strokes, I shuddered and ropes of pearly white jizz hit the floor. Dylan grinned as he watched.
“Good boy. Present.” I hesitated. “Now.” I climbed into place.
He pushed my face into the wet spot, the smell of his urine filled my nostrils. I felt him enter me again. This time he made it last, varying the strokes, edging, increasing his pleasure. My back started to ache from the awkward position. I was thankful when I felt his rhythm increase. Finally, his hips smashed hard against my ass as he made another deposit in my guts.
“Stay”
I watched him walk into the living room. He came back hiding something behind his back. He pushed a plug inside me and draped the belt around my waist.
“Fasten the harness.”
I fumbled with the cock ring and straps pulling them tight, holding the plug in place.
“Clean me up and fetch my pants.”
I went to my bathroom and wet a washcloth and grabbed a fresh towel. After wiping him down, I dried him off and fetched his clothes from the living room. I helped him dress. When I was done, he told me to get on all fours. He took another picture. This time he showed it to me. Sticking out from between my cheeks was a doggie tail.
“Wag”
I wagged.
“Good boy.”
“Don’t tell Damien what I did.”
My eyebrows raised. “I…uh…Master…”
“Relax. I want to tell him. I’m going show him the video as a surprise so keep your mouth shut.”
“Yes Master.”
He left. I snapped a photo of my doggie tail in the mirror. Piss still soaked my sheets. Then I came again—hard.
In the reflection, I saw myself: raw, used, hungry. I wanted this. I wanted Damien to do it. To see me like this. To use me. To be Damien’s toilet.
I slipped the plug out, gripping it hard as I headed to the shower.
