The bed was big and empty. The soft sheets and pillows should’ve been enough to lull me to sleep, but I was missing someone’s embrace.
Dario was the first word that came to my mind when I startled awake, with only the orange hue of the street down below as company. I hugged one of my pillows against my chest and imagined Dario instead. His strong back, the shape of his ass against my crotch. Our dynamic positioned me as the bottom in the relationship, but my need to fuck remained. Under my light summer covers, my cock hardened, and my first instinct was to grab it.
I was only on my third stroke when Dario’s voice forbade me to continue, reminding me that as an owned muscle boy I had no right to pleasure myself without my master’s permission.
“Huh,” I hissed, my eyes drifting from my closed door to the digital clock on my nightstand.
2:12 a.m.
Would Master be mad if I slipped into his bed?
I shuffled with my sheets, turning onto my other side, trying my best to ignore my raging erection. Then a devious idea came to mind. He wouldn’t know if I jerked off and came. There was no way of checking; my cum loads were always powerful. Healthy jets of thick white cum that’d please Dario and hide my transgression.
For a second, my hand hovered over my dick, and I recalled all the times I had touched myself in secret. In my cramped trailer bathroom, in the locker rooms, when everybody had already gone home. I had been frustrated not to have a private place I could call my own. Now, I had it. My very own room, and I still had something keeping me from wanking off as I pleased.
The squeeze of the collar around my neck, thick and leathery, was all it took to prevent me from pursuing my plans.
I hadn’t even seen the leash… Dario had forgotten about it as we were half asleep, entangled in a mess of limbs and cum-stained sheets.
I rolled onto my back and sighed, the warmth of the night wrapping me into an uncomfortable hug as my dick lay flush on my ripped abs. They’d been licked by numerous tongues, kissed by countless lips. I had always been a whore, only before I liked to believe I was top dog.
It turned out all I truly craved was a strong hand to guide me.
My heart raced, my skin burned. I couldn’t fall asleep alone. Dario called me. I needed his scent, his heat.
I left my room with a pillow under my pit, making my way through the dark apartment as I bumped into furniture and stubbed my toe in the corner of one.
“Fuck,” I gasped quietly, jumping on my other foot while biting my lips.
I limped the rest of the way, unable to see if I was bleeding or not.
Fortunately, Dario’s door was half open, and I glimpsed his naked body sleeping soundly, completely splayed on his bed.
There was no space for me. Hugging my pillow, I knelt by the right side of the bed and waited. I watched Dario’s chest slowly rising and falling, soothed by the soft rhythm of his breathing. I didn’t feel my eyes closing. I didn’t feel my head dropping, but when I opened my eyes, Dario was stroking my hair.
“What are you doing on the floor?” He whispered.
“I wanted to sleep with you, master,” I confessed. “But I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You were ready to sleep on the floor?” He asked, voice hoarse with sleep.
“If it means being close to you? Yes, sir.”
He scooted over to one side, and I took this as my cue to get on the bed.
“You’re leaning into this so fast, I’m surprised. You were a free boy a few days ago.”
I chuckled. “It feels natural, I like it.”
The statement was simple, but truthful. I had never felt more at ease, at home than here. My boner hadn’t subsided, but I embraced Dario without shame. My master had every right to feel my body, no matter my state. I inhaled the scent of his skin, his masculine smell making me drip a little.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said in his ear.
“It’s okay, boy,” he replied, “I like to know you’re healthy and ready for use. But for now, let’s get back to sleep. I have big plans for you tomorrow.”
“I’m ready, sir.”
He kissed my lips, sliding his tongue into my mouth. “You might not be.”
“Cazzo, è già mattina?”
Blink. Blink.
Reece.
He’s so heavy, I thought as I looked at the mountain of muscles cradling me. He was so soft for an ex-football player. All shaved and smooth and cuddly like a teddy bear.
Every time I set my eyes on him, all I saw was a lost boy who had been dealt a pretty shitty hand in life. From what I understood, he hadn’t grown surrounded by happiness. However, it did come with some pretty fucked-up worldviews. Homophobia had kept him from truly being himself, and fear had kept him from his natural need for submission.
I tested the collar around his neck.
Still tight.
I played with his hair, admired the muscular lines of his back, and while doing so, imagined how good he’d look tied up on a cross. Legs and arms spread wide, body completely exposed for a long, punishing flogging session.
My cock throbbed.
As far as I can remember, I’ve liked holding power over people. Bossing people aroused something in me I couldn’t quite pinpoint. So, I just accepted it as a part of myself. I only used pain on the slaves who demanded it. I only used pain on the slaves who asked for it, and most of all, pleasure was the only thing that mattered.
Mine and theirs were intertwined, and the guys who chose to become mine were the possessions I prized most of all. Keeping them close and knowing all they needed to be happy was paramount, because the one time I disappointed someone. The one time I was a total jerk to the person whom I cared for the most, death knocked on my door.
Getting into people’s minds gave me peace, because if I could prevent their darkest thoughts from taking over, I could keep them safe.
Orphaned boys only have strangers to fix, don’t they?
Reece was no different, yet he was an entirely new beast. The kind of boy I could claim long-term. The kind of boy I might want more from. That’s why I followed him that night; his fire reminded me of Lorenzo’s, before he made the decision to snuff himself out in a desperate attempt at freedom.
Life is hard, and some people need a hand to go through it.
“Morning,” Reece mumbled against my stomach.
“Hey,” I said, ripped from my ramblings. “How did you sleep?”
“Better with you.”
“You don’t like your room?” I asked.
“It’s cool, but I missed you,” Reece admitted with his all-American charm. “Would you mind if I moved into this room?”
My heart skipped a beat, but Reece’s pleading eyes jolted it back to life.
“Yeah, so I can keep a closer eye on you,” I said. “You came in with your dick hard. I truly hope you didn’t wank it without my permission.”
Being evasive was good for keeping someone at a safe distance, even though I wanted Reece as close as possible. Sadness washed over me as the faces of all the subs I had trained, and who’d left me once they got what they wanted, appeared.
“I did a little,” his chin quivered, “But I swear I stopped!”
“Good boy,” I told him, giving him a quick kiss on top of his head. “Let’s grab a light breakfast. I want you ready for a full day of fun.”
“Fuck Reece,” Dario said. “Look at that hole.”
My legs were spread up in the air, tightly bound to a special chair Dario had bought specifically for fucking his boys. But it wasn’t the scariest thing. The restraints were comfortable, even though my core strained a little from the unnatural position I was strapped into.
No, the scariest thing was the enormous dildo lined with my hole. It was already slick with lube, and my hole was leaking and agape, well-prepared by the load Dario had pumped inside me. I was spent, my body was aching from being tied to the chair.
But my ordeal wasn’t over.
The mechanical arm to which the pink dildo was attached began to whir as Dario switched it on.
“Remember, this goes on until you shoot your load hand-free, or until the battery runs out,” Dario explained. “Or, if it’s too much. There’s always your safeword.”
The option was there. If I were to use it, I’d admit defeat. I’d show Dario I wasn’t strong enough to be the submissive he needed.
That wouldn’t do.
“I’ll suffer, sir, as long as I’m told!”
He laughed softly and kissed me gently.
These were the best ones, the truest show of affection. The one I found better than sex.
“I don’t want you to rip. If something feels wrong, call me. I won’t be far.”
The dildo entered me, all nine inches to the base. The mechanical thrusts fucked me senselessly, and all I could do was keep my asshole open so my inner walls didn’t feel like sandpaper. My prostate was beaten repeatedly, and I could feel it grow more sensitive each time it was hit. Meanwhile, the sound of Dario showering as I took the rubber dick was my only lifeline.
My slit oozed with precum, soaking my hard stomach with jock juice.
When Dario came out, hair still dripping, I was covered in a sour sheen of sweat, and my hole made lewd noises that made me blush. The smell of cum and lube cemented me into the moment, into my role as a fucktoy and a slave.
I had asked for this treatment, for Dario to push me to my limit.
Who’d have thought it’d be this easy?
Dario looked at the clock on the wall, his cock still huge even flaccid. “You’ve been in use for a good thirty minutes already. I sure took my time in the bathroom.”
“I’m okay, sir!” I said through gritted teeth, sweat stinging my eye.
“Are you though?” Dario asked, approaching me slowly. “You wouldn’t lie to your master, would you?”
He slipped a finger inside my jock pussy…
Fuck… What did I call it?
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
The added pressure made me wince, and I closed my eyes.
“Look at me!” Dario snapped.
“I’m… I’m not lying, master,” I drooled over myself, my vision blurring.
My head spun, and the air in my lungs felt thin.
“I’m not…” I repeated.
The machine stopped working my insides, and a hard slap in the gut brought me back from my trance.
“Never, ever lie to me,” Dario said calmly, his face inches from mine. “Look at you, you’re a fucking mess, and you’d still keep going? You were about to pass out!”
He scolded me as if I were a child, twisting my nipples as if to make a point.
“I’m sorry, sir!” I cried. “I just want to please you! I want to be your good boy!”
“And a good boy knows his limits,” he said, wiping the sweat from my forehead. “You’re not a masochist, boy, not really. A little pain does it for you, but not too much. Am I wrong?”
I stared into his dark eyes and nodded in defeat. “Yes, sir…” I sniffled, my hole thumping and dripping. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you don’t have to be. Know your limits, that’s how you’ll make me happy,” Dario brushed his thumb over my lips and untied my right arm. “Let’s get you out of this, see how your hole is doing.”
Dario spent the next hour cleaning me out, inside and out. My hole was so sensitive that a single finger was enough to make me writhe. It was terrible to see Dario take care of me as if I were some fragile doll, a broken thing who’d presumed his own strength. Lying was a natural refuge for me because showing weakness had always meant retribution. From my parents and my “friends.”
I understood Dario only wished for the truth. A boy with an open mind who’d share every part of himself.
As I lay by him in bed, I swore I’d tell no more lies.
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