Owned by Master Kent

Lukas Müller, 28, sat on the edge of his unmade bed, the dim glow of his phone the only light in the cramped studio. The walls were thin here—somewhere in the sleepy outskirts of Oranienburg, a town close enough to Berlin to tease him with its nightlife but far enough to keep him isolated. The hotel reception job paid the bills, but it was the same routine: check-ins, forced smiles, and the hollow ache of returning to an empty home.
He sighed, his thumb swiping mindlessly through the profiles on Grindr. It was his ritual after work, a desperate attempt to fill the void. The men blurred together—muscle, cock, the occasional face. A sea of potential, but nothing that truly called to him. His last few dates had been a string of disappointments. The ones who promised dominance either lacked the conviction to back it up or pushed too hard, too fast. Lukas craved something deeper, a surrender that consumed him wholly, but the men he met seemed more interested in fleeting encounters than genuine exploration.

His mind drifted to the recent encounters—Tom, the personal trainer who had growled commands but faltered at the first sign of resistance; Erik, the banker who had promised the world but was too timid to leave a mark. None of them understood. It wasn’t just about pain or control; it was about surrendering to something greater, becoming a tool for another’s pleasure, finding meaning in service. But how could he explain that to the strangers on an app designed for quick hookups?

He hesitated, his finger hovering over a new profile. The picture showed a pair of polished boots against a dark background, the caption simply: “Master Kent. 20. Dom. Discreet.” No face, no cock, just an air of authority. The bio was sparse, only two words that sent a shiver down Lukas’s spine: “Ready to own you.”

It was the kind of arrogance that usually put Lukas off, but something about it resonated. He tapped the message button and typed his first hesitant message: “I want to serve. What do you demand?”

The next few days were a blur of anticipation. Master Kent didn’t respond immediately, and Lukas found himself checking the app obsessively, each unopened message icon a disappointment. He tried again the next day, then the next, his messages growing increasingly desperate: “Please, I need direction. I want to be yours.” He sent pictures—his face, his body, his eyes downcast as he knelt on the floor of his apartment. He poured his desire into those messages, hoping that Kent would understand the depth of his need.

Finally, after nearly ten days of silence, his phone lit up with a response. His heart raced as he opened the message.

“Who are you, faggot? And what do you want?”

Lukas’s fingers flew across the screen. “I’m Lukas. 28. Submissive. I want to belong to you. Permanently.”

He waited, barely breathing, as the typing indicator blinked on Kent’s side. Finally, a short reply: “We’ll see.”

And just like that, Lukas was hooked. The brief exchange consumed him, replaying Kent’s curt response in his mind long after he closed the app. He found himself wondering what kind of man would be so confident, so aloof. What kind of Master would ignore a willing submissive for days, only to respond with such dismissiveness?

The mystery fueled him. He continued to message Kent, pouring out his fantasies, his desires, his willingness to surrender. He sent more pictures, each one revealing a bit more of himself—his toned body, the leather collar he kept hidden in his bedside drawer, the marks he’d given himself in the absence of a proper Master. All he received in return were occasional, single-word responses: “More.” “Again.” “Pathetic.”

It should have deterred him. Instead, it ignited a fire within him. No one had ever made him work so hard for approval

The first meeting was set after two weeks of this dance, a slow seduction through the screen. Kent had finally asked for Lukas’s address, setting a date and time with the same curt authority he displayed in his messages. “Friday. 17:00. Be ready.”

Lukas spent the days leading up to their meeting in a whirlwind of anticipation and nerves. He cleaned his apartment until it shone, bought new candles and incense, and agonized over what to wear. Should he be naked? Partially dressed? Fully clothed? The indecision nearly drove him mad, but he eventually settled on a simple white shirt and loose linen trousers—easy to remove, non-threatening, but not overtly sexual.

Friday arrived, and with it, a flurry of butterflies in Lukas’s stomach. He positioned himself by the door at 16:30, too anxious to sit still. Every creak of the building, every distant sound, made him flinch, expecting it to be Kent’s arrival. At 16:57, a sharp knock echoed through the apartment, sending a jolt through Lukas’s body.

He opened the door, and there stood Master Kent.

“Hello, Master,” Lukas managed to say, stepping aside to let him in. Kent didn’t reply, his icy blue eyes scanning the apartment as he entered. He was taller than Lukas had imagined, lean but clearly strong, dressed all in black that somehow didn’t feel like an affectation. His Germanic features were sharp, chiseled, like he’d been carved from marble—high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and piercing eyes that seemed to see right through Lukas.

Without a word, Kent strode into the living room, his movements fluid and confident. He knew where he was going, as if he’d been there before, though Lukas was certain they’d never met. There was an air about him, a presence that commanded the space. Lukas followed, mesmerized by the easy authority with which Kent moved, the way he seemed to own every inch of ground he covered.

Kent sat on the sofa, not waiting for an invitation. He leaned back, spreading his arms across the backrest, and lifted his legs to rest his ankles on the coffee table. The posture was casual, almost careless, but there was nothing relaxed about it. Every inch of him screamed control.

“Strip,” Kent said, his voice low and even.

Lukas hesitated for a moment, struck by the absurdity of the situation. Here he was, 28 years old, undressing in his own home at the command of a man eight years his junior. A man who hadn’t even bothered to look up from his phone as he issued the order.

But there was something about Kent—his beauty, his strength, the overwhelming power he radiated despite his age—that made resistance unthinkable. Lukas slowly began to remove his clothes, the air in the room feeling heavy, charged with an energy he couldn’t quite name.

Kent seemed unconcerned with Lukas’s state of undress. He pulled his phone from his pocket and began to scroll through it, as if this were his own apartment and Lukas’s nakedness were of no consequence. As if having a stranger strip for him were an everyday occurrence, nothing worthy of his attention.

It was humiliating, degrading, and yet it ignited something deep within Lukas. That feeling he couldn’t define, the one he’d been chasing through countless failed encounters and hollow hookups. It was here, now, in this moment of utter vulnerability.

Lukas finished undressing and stood in the middle of the room. The excitement was almost unbearable, but Kent didn’t look up. He didn’t react at all. Lukas knew he had a good body—toned from years at the gym, smooth skin, a cock that had never drawn complaints. A part of him was almost disappointed, wondering if he’d misread the situation entirely.

But then it dawned on him—this was exactly how it was meant to be. Kent wasn’t here to admire him, to be impressed by his body. He was here to own him, to use him, to see him as nothing more than an object. The realization sent a thrill through Lukas, confirming what he’d suspected from their first exchange. Kent wasn’t an amateur, nor was he some entitled young man looking for a plaything. He was a Master. An owner.

“On your knees,” Kent commanded, still not looking up from his phone.

Lukas obeyed immediately, sinking to the floor with a soft thud. He kept his eyes lowered, focusing on Kent’s boots—polished black leather, expensive-looking but not flashy. The kind of footwear that spoke of quiet

Suddenly, Kent’s hand shot out, gripping Lukas’s hair and yanking his head back. Lukas gasped at the sudden pain, his vision filled with Kent’s piercing gaze.

“What kind of slave are you?” Kent snarled, leaning forward until his face was inches from Lukas’s. “Pathetic. Weak. You think you can serve me?”

Lukas opened his mouth to respond, but Kent’s grip tightened, pulling harder at his hair.

“You don’t speak unless I tell you to, understand? You don’t move unless I command it. You’re not a person. You're my thing.”

Lukas nodded as best he could with Kent’s hand controlling his movement. This was it—this was what he’d been searching for. The absolute surrender, the complete loss of autonomy. It terrified him even as it exhilarated him.

Kent had made it clear in their messages—any weakness on Lukas’s part, any chaotic or disobedient behavior, would result in the immediate termination of their relationship. Before it had even begun. Lukas felt a surge of determination. He would prove himself worthy. He would be everything Kent wanted and more.

Kent released his grip on Lukas’s hair, pushing his head away dismissively. He returned to his previous position, feet up on the coffee table, scrolling through his phone as if nothing had happened.

Lukas remained on his knees, his face now inches from Kent’s feet. His breathing was ragged, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t dare move, didn’t want to risk ending this encounter before it had truly begun.

Minutes passed in silence, Kent seemingly engrossed in his phone. Lukas’s knees began to ache, his muscles tensing with the effort of maintaining his position. But he didn’t shift, didn’t make a sound. He barely dared to breathe.

The intensity of his arousal was overwhelming. Every fiber of his being screamed to touch Kent, to worship his feet, his legs, to crawl into his lap and beg for approval. But he held back, gripping his own thighs tightly to keep himself in place. This wasn’t about his pleasure. This was about proving his worth as a slave. And if that meant kneeling at Kent’s feet for hours, silent and still, then that’s what he would do.
Time lost all meaning. The world narrowed to this room, this moment, the man before him. Lukas had never felt so alive, so utterly present, as he did in that silent, motionless wait.

Kent didn’t acknowledge him. Didn’t look at him. Might as well have been alone in the room for all the attention he paid to the naked man kneeling at his feet. It was as if Lukas had become a piece of furniture—a footstool, perhaps, or a decorative object. Something to be used when needed, ignored when not.

Two hours passed this way. Two hours of terrible, beautiful silence broken only by the intermittent sound of Kent’s fingers on his phone screen.

And then, without warning, Kent stood up. He stretched casually, as if waking from a nap, and began to walk toward the apartment door. Lukas’s breath caught in his throat. Was this it? Was it over? Had he failed somehow, unbeknownst to himself?

Kent opened the door, pausing for a moment in the doorway. He looked back at Lukas, still on his knees, naked and waiting.

“Text me tomorrow, you bastard,” Kent said curtly, and then he was gone.
```

The door closed with a soft click, leaving Lukas alone in stunned silence. His mind raced, replaying every moment, every gesture, searching for signs of approval or rejection. Had he done well? Had he proven himself worthy?

Slowly, Lukas rose to his feet. His muscles protested, stiff from the long vigil. He looked around the apartment, the space feeling emptier than before Kent’s arrival. The absence of the young Master’s commanding presence left a void, a space Lukas already yearned to fill again.

He made his way to the bathroom on shaky legs, the adrenaline of the encounter finally beginning to ebb. As he caught sight of himself

He waited for morning with bated breath, his mind buzzing with possibilities. What would Kent say? Had he passed some unspoken test? The uncertainty was almost unbearable, a delicious torture that kept him awake long into the night.

The next day, as soon as he woke, Lukas reached for his phone with trembling hands. He navigated to the Grindr conversation, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. After a moment’s hesitation, he typed out a simple message: “Good morning, sir.”

He set the phone down, trying to distract himself with his morning routine. But every few minutes, he found himself checking it again, willing a response to appear. It wasn’t until nearly two hours later, when he was already at work, that his phone buzzed with a reply.

“Today. 5 PM. Be naked when I arrive.”

That was all Kent said. No praise, no criticism, just a command delivered with the same casual authority as before. But to Lukas, it was everything. He hadn’t been rejected. He’d been granted another chance to prove himself.

The day dragged by at a torturous pace. Lukas went through the motions at work, his mind elsewhere, replaying

The second meeting unfolded much like the first. Kent arrived precisely on time, entering the apartment with the same calm confidence. He made his way to the sofa, taking a seat in the exact same spot as the day before. Lukas, already naked, followed silently, kneeling before Kent without needing to be told.

Again, he was instructed to remain still, on his knees, inches from Kent’s feet but not touching them. Again, he endured two hours of silence, broken only by the occasional sound of Kent using his phone. Again, he fought the urge to move, to speak, to do anything but wait in obedient stillness.

When Kent finally left, it was with the same curt command: “Tomorrow. 5 PM. Naked.”

And so it continued. Day after day, Lukas waited for Kent’s arrival, undressing without a word and taking his place at the young Master’s feet. Each time, he knelt for hours, motionless and silent, his world narrowing to the space between them. Each time, Kent ignored him, treating him as if he weren’t even there. And each time, Lukas left more frustrated and more addicted than before.

After a week of this routine Questions began to swirl in Lukas’s mind. Was this all there was to it? Days turning into weeks of silent kneeling, of being ignored, of serving without any acknowledgment or reward? Was it worth it? Should he keep going?

But then Kent would arrive, and all doubt would vanish. The moment he entered the room, the moment he glanced at Lukas with that unreadable expression, everything else faded away. It didn’t matter if he was touched or used. It didn’t even matter if he was acknowledged. What mattered was that for those few hours, he belonged to someone. He had a purpose.

Yes, he decided, it was worth it. As long as he could smell the leather of Kent’s shoes, as long as he could feel the young Master’s gaze on him, it was enough. More than enough.

And so it continued, day after day, a dance of dominance and submission played out in silence. Lukas learned to crave the ache in his knees, the burn in his muscles. He learned to find comfort in the stillness, in the surrender of his autonomy. He stopped questioning, stopped wondering. He simply was, existing solely for those hours at Kent’s feet.

And then, after two weeks of this silent ritual, Kent decided it was time for more.

It happened without warning. Lukas knelt in his usual spot, back straight, eyes down, every muscle in his body screaming from the effort of remaining perfectly still. Kent sat above him, legs crossed, one arm stretched along the back of the sofa. He had been particularly silent today, not even the sound of his phone breaking the stillness between them.

And then, abruptly, he spoke.

“What are you?”

The question struck Lukas like a whip. He flinched, though he didn’t move, his eyes remaining fixed on the floor.

“I am your own, sir,” he replied, the words reverent, almost a prayer.

He waited, not daring to say more, barely breathing as the silence stretched on.

Kent uncrossed his legs, leaning forward slightly. His boots were close now, so close Lukas could see the faint scuff marks on the polished leather. He longed to reach out, to run his fingers over those imperfections, to press his lips to the cool surface. But he didn’t. He remained still, waiting.

“Look at me,” Kent commanded.

Lukas raised his gaze slowly, meeting Kent’s eyes for the first time in weeks. The intensity of that icy blue stare took his breath away.

“Start with my shoes,” Kent said, his voice low, controlled. “And don’t you dare do a sloppy job, or there will be consequences.”

The words were harsh, insulting even, but there was an undercurrent of something else in Kent’s tone. Anticipation, perhaps. Or was it excitement? Lukas couldn’t be sure, but what he did know was that this was what he had been waiting for. This was the moment everything would change.

“Yes, sir,” Lukas whispered, his voice rough from disuse. He shifted forward on his knees, inching closer to Kent’s feet. The movement felt monumental, momentous, as if he were crossing a threshold into new territory.

He reached out with shaking hands, touching the polished surface of Kent’s shoes with reverence. The leather was cool under his fingertips, smooth and unyielding. Lukas ran his hands over the surface, feeling every contour, every seam. He marveled at the craftsmanship, at the way the material seemed to glow under his touch.

“Use your mouth,” Kent commanded. “Show me what a good little shoe slut you can be.”

Lukas didn’t hesitate. He lowered his head, pressing his lips against the toe of Kent’s shoe. The taste of leather filled his senses, rich and earthy. He kissed it reverently, then opened his mouth wider, taking the tip of the shoe between his lips.

As he began to move his head back and forth, sucking on the leather like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, Lukas felt a shift inside him. This was what he had craved for so long—to be used, to be objectified, to find purpose in his submission. The weeks of silent waiting, of being ignored, had been leading to this moment. This was his reward, his validation.

Kent watched him, his expression unreadable. But there was tension in his shoulders, a stillness that betrayed his interest. Lukas poured all of his desire, all of his need to please, into his actions. He worshipped Kent’s shoes with his mouth, his tongue, his lips. He tasted every inch of the polished surface, reveling in the texture, the scent, the sheer dominance of the act.

“Good,” Kent said finally, his voice a little rougher than before. “I have two feet, you know. Unless you think the other one looks unworthy of your attention.”

The insult stung, but Lukas didn’t react. Instead, he moved to the other foot, showing it the same reverence, the same desperate need to please. He sucked and licked, losing himself in the act, in the complete surrender of his will to Kent’s.

Time lost all meaning. Lukas existed only in this moment, this act of worship. His mouth worked tirelessly, his mind blank of everything but the need to serve, to please, to earn his place at Kent’s feet.

When Kent finally spoke again, his voice was different—softer, almost gentle. “Enough.”

Lukas pulled back immediately, every muscle in his body trembling with exertion and arousal. He kept his eyes lowered, waiting for further instruction, but none came. Instead, Kent shifted on the sofa, stretching his legs out further.

“Take them off,” Kent commanded, indicating his shoes with a jerk of his chin. “And the socks. I want to see if you can be a good foot whore as well as a shoe slut.”

Lukas obeyed eagerly, his hands moving to the laces of Kent’s shoes. He untied them with trembling fingers, carefully removing first one shoe, then the other. The socks followed, peeled off slowly to reveal Kent’s feet in all their glory.

For the first time, Lukas looked upon his Master’s bare feet, and what he saw took his breath away. Kent’s feet were perfect—strong and lean, with high arches and smooth skin. The toes were long and straight, ending in neatly trimmed nails. They were a foot fetishist’s dream, and to Lukas, they represented the ultimate prize.

He looked up at Kent, waiting for permission, but received only a curt nod in response. Lukas returned his gaze to Kent’s feet, his breath hitching in anticipation.

“Don’t just sit there gaping like an idiot,” Kent snapped. “Show me what you can do.”

The harsh words shouldn’t have excited Lukas as much as they did, but there was something about Kent’s insulting language that only fueled his desire. He loved being called names, being put in his place, being reminded of his position as nothing more than a tool for Kent’s pleasure.

“Yes, sir,” Lukas murmured, leaning forward to press his lips against Kent’s right foot. He started at the heel, kissing and licking his way up to the toes. When he reached the top, he took Kent’s big toe into his mouth, sucking gently before moving to the next.

Kent watched him silently, his expression a mask of casual indifference. But Lukas could sense the tension in him, the way his muscles twitched occasionally, betraying his arousal. It spurred Lukas on, driving him to please Kent even more.

He moved to the left foot, showing it the same attention, the same reverence. He kissed and licked every inch of skin, tasting the salt of Kent’s sweat, inhaling the musky scent of his feet. It was intoxicating, addicting, and Lukas never wanted it to end.

“Pathetic,” Kent muttered, though there was a hitch in his breath that undermined the insult. “Is that all you’ve got? Come on, you worthless piece of shit. Show me what you’re really capable of.”

Lukas moaned at the harsh words, a sound of pure submission. He redoubled his efforts, taking Kent’s entire foot into his mouth, sucking and licking with abandon. He didn’t care if he was being too sloppy, too eager. All that mattered was pleasing Kent, earning his approval, securing his place in this beautiful, twisted dynamic they were building.

Time lost all meaning as Lukas worshipped Kent’s feet. He lost himself in the act, forgetting about everything else—his job, his apartment, his very name. He was nothing but a vessel for Kent’s pleasure, a tool to be used as his Master saw fit.

When Kent finally told him to stop, Lukas was dazed, almost drunk on the experience. He pulled back slowly, his mouth tingling, his lips swollen from their efforts. He looked up at Kent, awaiting judgment, awaiting the verdict on his performance.

Kent was silent for a long moment, his eyes roaming over Lukas’s naked form. There was a darkness in his gaze, a hunger that made Lukas shiver with anticipation.

“You’ll do,” Kent said finally, his voice gruff. “For now. 

Put my socks and shoes back on. Then get on all fours and crawl to the door. I’ll leave the same way I came.”

Lukas obeyed without hesitation, replacing Kent’s socks and shoes with trembling hands. When he was done, he got on all fours, waiting for Kent to lead the way.

Kent stood, towering over him, and walked to the apartment door. Lukas followed on his hands and knees, crawling behind his Master like the submissive pet he was. At the door, Kent turned one last time, looking down at Lukas with an unreadable expression.

“Tomorrow. Same time. Naked, you scum.”
And with that, he was gone, leaving Lukas alone in his apartment once again. But this time, Lukas wasn’t left with only questions and doubts. This time, he was left with a sense of accomplishment, of purpose. He had served his Master. He had pleased him. And he couldn’t wait to do it again.

The sexual frustration was almost unbearable. As soon as Kent left, Lukas stumbled to his feet, his cock hard and aching. He made his way to his bedroom, falling onto the bed with a groan.

For the first time since they’d begun this strange dance, Lukas touched himself. He wrapped his hand around his throbbing erection, hissing at the pleasure that shot through him. It didn’t take long—within minutes, he was cumming harder than he ever had in his life, shooting ropes of thick semen onto his stomach and chest.

It was intense, overwhelming, and utterly satisfying. Lukas lay there for a long time afterward, catching his breath, marveling at the sheer power of what he had just experienced. He had never cum so much in his life, never felt such an intense orgasm. It was as if weeks of sexual frustration, of denial, had built to this one perfect moment.

Finally, he roused himself, cleaning up the mess before collapsing back onto the bed. As he drifted off into a well-deserved sleep, Lukas couldn’t help but wonder what tomorrow would bring. Would Kent take things further? Would he demand more from his new foot slave?

The questions swirled in his mind, but they no longer brought anxiety. Instead, they brought excitement, anticipation. Lukas knew now, without a doubt, that he would do anything Kent asked of him. He would surrender everything, give up all control, if it meant he could stay on his knees at his Master’s feet.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face, visions of Kent’s perfect feet dancing in his dreams.

The next day, Kent arrived precisely at five, as he always did. Lukas greeted him naked, as instructed, kneeling immediately and waiting for his Master’s command. But today, Kent seemed different. There was an energy about him, a tension that Lukas hadn’t noticed before.

“Crawl to me,” Kent ordered, his voice tight with an emotion Lukas couldn’t quite identify.

Lukas obeyed immediately, crawling across the floor on his hands and knees. When he reached Kent, he knelt up, waiting eagerly for his next instruction.

“Take off my shoes,” Kent said harshly. “And get to work, you worthless bastard.”

Lukas’s hands shook as he removed Kent’s shoes and socks, his excitement growing with every passing second. When the feet he had dreamed about for weeks were finally revealed, he couldn’t hold back a moan of pure lust.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips against Kent’s right foot with reverence. He kissed his way up to the toes, then took each one into his mouth in turn, sucking and licking with enthusiasm. He could taste the salt of Kent’s skin, feel the warmth of his flesh against his tongue. It was intoxicating, addictive, and Lukas never wanted to stop.

But today, something was different. As Lukas moved to the left foot, ready to show it the same attention, Kent reacted unexpectedly. With a sudden movement, he kicked out, catching Lukas in the chest and sending him sprawling backward onto the floor.

Lukas lay there, stunned, his heart racing. What had just happened? Why had Kent—so careful, so controlled until now—lashed out with such violence?

Before he could even begin to process this turn of events, Kent was up and moving. He strode to the door, hastily putting on his shoes before stepping out into the hallway. And then, just like that, he was gone.

Lukas was left alone in his apartment, more confused than ever. Why had Kent kicked him? Why had he left so abruptly, without explanation? Had Lukas done something wrong? Had he failed in his duties somehow? The questions swirled in his head, each one more troubling than the last.
He pushed himself up slowly, his chest aching where Kent’s foot had connected. As he stood, a new thought occurred to him, sending a fresh wave of anxiety through his already frazzled nerves.

Kent hadn’t said anything about tomorrow.

Usually, without fail, Kent ended their time together with the same command: “Tomorrow. Five PM. Naked.” But today, there had been nothing. No instruction, no expectation set. Just silence, and then sudden, inexplicable violence.

A whirlwind of questions swirled through Lukas’s mind. Would Kent return? Should he text and ask? Should he wait naked tomorrow, as usual, hoping his Master would grace him with his presence once again?

Perhaps Kent had simply forgotten to mention it in his haste to leave. Or perhaps he expected Lukas to know, without being told, that he was to be ready and waiting at the usual time.

Or perhaps… and this thought was the most troubling of all… perhaps Kent was done with him. Perhaps whatever had caused that sudden burst of violence had also convinced Kent that Lukas was unworthy, unqualified to serve as his foot slave.

After much deliberation, Lukas made his decision. Tomorrow, he would wait as usual. He would be naked, kneeling in the hallway, ready to serve in whatever capacity Kent required. And he would do so with the desperate hope that his Master would return, that whatever had gone wrong could be fixed, that their twisted dance could continue.

As he settled into an uneasy sleep that night, Lukas made a silent vow to himself. No matter what happened, no matter what Kent demanded of him, he would do everything in his power to keep this relationship alive. He would endure anything, suffer any humiliation, if it meant he could remain at Kent’s feet, where he belonged.

The next day was interminable. Lukas went through the motions at work, but his mind was elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of Kent, of what had happened the day before, of what might happen tonight. The hours ticked by with agonizing slowness, each minute feeling like an eternity.

Finally, it was time to go home. Lukas left work in a daze, his body moving on autopilot as his thoughts raced ahead to the unknown. What would he find when he reached his apartment? 

The walk home seemed to take forever, but eventually, Lukas found himself standing in front of his apartment building. With a deep breath, he stepped inside and made his way up the stairs, each footfall echoing in the silent corridor.

As he rounded the corner to his hallway, his heart leapt into his throat. There, standing exactly where he always did, was Kent. He leaned against the wall, one foot propped up behind him, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was unreadable, but there was a glint in his eye that made Lukas’s pulse race.

“Master,” Lukas breathed, his relief palpable. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Kent didn’t respond. Instead, he pushed off from the wall and walked past Lukas, entering the apartment without a word. Lukas followed quickly, closing the door behind them before dropping to his knees in the entryway.

“On the table,” Kent ordered, indicating the small dining table in the corner of the room. “Face down, ass up. Now.”

Lukas scrambled to obey, climbing onto the table with hurried movements. He positioned himself as instructed, face down with his ass in the air, his heart pounding with anticipation and fear. What did Kent have planned? Why this sudden change in their routine?

The questions swirled in Lukas’s mind, but before he could begin to find answers, Kent spoke again.

“Spread your legs wider,” he commanded. 

Lukas did as he was told, shifting his position to give Kent better access. As he moved, he heard a rustling sound behind him, followed by the rip of tape being pulled from a roll. Before he could process what was happening, Kent grabbed his right ankle, securing it to the table leg with a strip of heavy-duty tape.

The action was so unexpected, so outside their usual dynamic, that Lukas gasped in shock. But he didn’t move, didn’t resist. Instead, he pressed his face into the hard surface of the table, his breath coming in quick pants of excitement and fear.

“Good boy,” Kent murmured, the praise at odds with the rough treatment. “Now the other one.”

Lukas waited, trembling slightly, as Kent moved to his left ankle. He secured it in the same manner as the right, tightening the tape until Lukas was effectively immobilized.

“There,” Kent said, stepping back to survey his handiwork. “That should keep you in place. Now, let’s make you a little more comfortable, shall we?”

Lukas heard the sound of Kent rummaging in his bag, then the soft thud of something being placed on the table beside him. A moment later, Kent’s hands were on him again, lifting his hips slightly before sliding a folded towel beneath them.

“Better,” Kent said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Now your ass is nice and presented for me. Just like a good little slut should be.”

Lukas whimpered at the crude words, his cock twitching with helpless arousal. He was trapped now, unable to move, unable to do anything but wait for whatever Kent had planned. The vulnerability of his position, the utter helplessness, was intoxicating.

“Please, Master,” he heard himself begging, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “Please use me. I’m yours, whatever you want, I’m yours…”

The pleading turned into a strangled cry as Kent’s hand connected with his exposed ass. The slap was sharp, painful, a punishment for his outburst.

“A slave shouldn’t need to ask,” Kent growled. “He should know. Now be quiet and take what you’re given like a good boy.”

Lukas bit back another whimper, focusing on relaxing into the table beneath him. He wouldn’t disappoint Kent again. 

The next few minutes passed in agonizing suspense. Lukas could hear Kent moving around the room, the soft rustle of fabric, the click of metal. He strained to hear, to guess what might be coming, but the sounds gave nothing away.

And then, suddenly, Kent was back. Lukas felt him approach, felt the air shift with his presence. There was a moment of stillness, and then…

Crack!

Something thin and hard struck Lukas’s upturned ass, the impact sending shockwaves of pain through his body. He cried out, unable to contain the sound, but Kent didn’t stop. Again and again the implement rained down, striking his tender flesh with precision and force.

It hurt—oh god, it hurt—but the pain was distant somehow, muffled by the overwhelming sense of submission that filled Lukas’s mind. He was being punished, disciplined for his transgression, and the knowledge sent a thrill of dark pleasure through him.

Between blows, Lukas heard Kent’s harsh breathing, the grunt of exertion as he wielded whatever it was he was using. The sounds mingled with Lukas’s own cries, creating a symphony of pain and dominance that filled the small apartment.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Kent stopped. The room fell silent except for the sound of heavy breathing—Lukas’s and Kent’s both.

“Look what I found,” Kent said suddenly, his voice rough with exertion. “You really shouldn’t leave your router cable where anyone can get to it, you know. It’s just asking for trouble.”

Lukas didn’t respond. He couldn’t, not when his mind was reeling from the implications of Kent’s words. The router cable? He had used the router cable on him? The thought sent a fresh wave of submission washing over Lukas. His Master was so resourceful, so creative in his dominance. It was a heady realization.

Kent grabbed Lukas’s hair, pulling his head back painfully. “Did you hear me, you disgusting piece of shit? I said look.”

With shaking hands, Kent brought the cable into Lukas’s line of sight. It was thin and black, the type that connected Lukas’s internet router to his computer. He stared at it, mesmerized, as Kent waved it slowly back and forth.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Kent mocked. “Almost as beautiful as your ass

Lukas started to beg, but the words died on his lips as Kent brought the cable down again. It struck his already sore flesh with a sharp crack, sending a new wave of pain radiating outward.

“Quiet,” Kent snapped when Lukas cried out. “No one wants to hear you whine, you pathetic little worm.”

And so it continued, Kent raining down blows with the cable whenever Lukas dared to make a sound. The insults continued as well, flowing easily from Kent’s lips as if they were the most natural thing in the world. “You disgusting little faggot,” he spat. “You like this, don’t you? You love being treated like the worthless piece of shit you are.”

Each blow sent fresh waves of agony coursing through Lukas’s body. His ass was on fire, the pain so intense he could barely breathe. But with the pain came an overwhelming sense of submission, of being exactly where he was meant to be. This was what he had craved for so long—to surrender completely, to give himself over to someone else’s will.

Lukas lost himself in the sensation, in the feeling of being utterly owned, utterly controlled. He no longer cared about the pain, no longer cared if his neighbors heard his cries. All that mattered was Kent, and pleasing him, and accepting whatever he chose to give.

And still Kent continued, his strength showing no signs of flagging even after countless blows. He was a machine, relentless in his punishment, merciless in his dominance.

“This is because you didn’t show enough respect for my feet, yesterday,” Kent said as he struck Lukas again and again. “So I am teaching you a lesson. Feet are LIMBS. Feet are to be WORSHIPPED. Feet are to be RESPECTED. Is that clear, you filth?”
Yes, sir,” Lukas whimpered. “I understand. Please… I’m sorry… I’ll never disrespect you again…”

The words tumbled out in a rush, heartfelt and desperate. Lukas meant every one, wanted Kent to know how deeply sorry he was for whatever slight, imagined or otherwise, that had prompted this brutal punishment.

But his apology fell on deaf ears. Kent simply snorted in disgust and continued the onslaught, each blow landing with unerring accuracy on Lukas’s already bruised flesh. “Too little, too late,” he sneered. “Now you must suffer the consequences of your actions. This will teach you to never disrespect your Master’s feet again.”

Lukas cried out again, the pain almost overwhelming now. His ass felt like it was on fire, waves of agony radiating outward from each new point of impact. But even as he screamed, he felt a deep sense of satisfaction. This was right. This was where he belonged—in pain, in submission, at the mercy of a powerful Master.

He lost track of time, lost in a haze of pain and submission. The cable rained down relentlessly, each strike a fresh reminder of his place in this world. He was nothing but a slave, a thing to be used and punished at his Master’s whim. And with that realization came peace, came freedom.

Finally, after an eternity, Kent stopped. There was silence for a long moment, broken only by the sound of heavy breathing. Then, slowly, Kent leaned over Lukas’s prone form, his breath hot against Lukas’s ear.

“That,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, “is what happens to naughty slaves who don’t show the proper respect. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” Lukas whispered, his voice hoarse from screaming. “I understand completely.”

“Good.” Kent’s hand came to rest on Lukas’s bruised and battered ass, squeezing gently. The pain was intense, but Lukas didn’t flinch. Instead, he pressed back into the touch, craving more even now.

“You did well,” Kent continued, his tone almost gentle. “You took your punishment like a good slave. I think you’ve earned a reward, don’t you?”

Lukas nodded eagerly, anticipation coursing through him. What reward did Kent have in store? What new way would his Master find to use him, to play with him, to assert his dominance?

“Stay just like that,” Kent ordered, straightening up. “I’ll be right back.”

Lukas obeyed, remaining bent over the table even as Kent moved away. He heard the soft pad of footsteps, the rustle of fabric as Kent rummaged in his sports bag again. Then there was a moment of silence before Kent spoke once more.

“Ah, here we go.”

Lukas turned his head, trying to see what Kent had found. But before he could get a good look, Kent moved back into position behind him, something hard and flat in his hand.

“Were you expecting a reward?” Kent asked, his tone mocking. Then he laughed, the sound cruel and amused. “Well, here it is.”

Before Lukas could react, Kent brought whatever it was he was holding down across Lukas’s already bruised and battered flesh. The impact was tremendous, sending a fresh wave of pain coursing through Lukas’s body.

Lukas cried out, the sound torn from him against his will. But Kent didn’t stop. He raised the implement again, bringing it down with even greater force than before. And again. And again.

It took Lukas a moment to realize what Kent was using. It was the flat, wide piece of wood from a clothes hanger—the kind with the clamps to hold pants in place. Kent had broken it off the hanger and was now using it to beat Lukas mercilessly.

The pain was incredible, so intense that Lukas saw stars dancing before his eyes. But even as he cried out, even as he begged for mercy, he knew he didn’t want it to stop. This was what he needed, what he craved. To be used, to be punished, to be reminded of his place in this twisted game they played.
Kent paused, letting the hanger fall to the floor with a clatter. Lukas lay panting, his body trembling with the force of his sobs. He felt Kent’s hand on his bruised flesh, stroking gently, almost tenderly.

“Shh,” Kent murmured. “It’s okay. You’re doing so well, taking it just like you’re supposed to. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Lukas choked out. “Yes, Master. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Of course you will,” Kent agreed. “Because if you’re not, we’ll just have to do this all over again. And I don’t think your poor little ass could take that, could it?”

Lukas shook his head frantically, fresh tears springing to his eyes at the very thought. “No, Master. Please, no more. I can’t… I can’t…”

“Then you’ll be good,” Kent said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’ll do exactly as you’re told, won’t you?”

“Yes, Master.” Lukas’s voice was a barely audible whisper now, his energy completely drained. “Anything you want. Just please, no more.”

Kent chuckled, the sound darkly amused. “We’ll see,” he said. “For now, though, I think you’ve had enough. Come here.”

Lukas felt the tape that held him in place being ripped away, the sudden freedom of movement almost painful after so long restrained. He pushed himself up slowly, his body aching in a thousand different places, and turned to face his Master.

Kent was standing there, fully clothed as always, his expression unreadable. For a long moment they simply stared at each other, the silence between them thick with tension.

Finally, Kent spoke, his tone firm, his words unmistakable. “Tomorrow is Friday. Five PM. Naked. I’ll be here until Monday morning.”

Lukas nodded, a shiver of anticipation running through him despite his exhaustion. A whole weekend with Kent… it was almost too much to hope for.

“And Lukas,” Kent added, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Make sure you have plenty of beer in the fridge. It’s my favorite.” Then he added, almost as an afterthought, “I might need the energy to beat you all weekend long.”

With those ominous words hanging in the air, Kent turned and walked out of the apartment, the door closing behind him with a solid thud. Lukas listened to his retreating footsteps, his mind reeling with the implications of what had just happened.

A whole weekend… alone… with Kent…

The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. What would Kent do to him over the course of two long days and nights? How far would he push, how much could Lukas endure?

There was only one way to find out. With a sense of mingled dread and anticipation, Lukas began to make his preparations. By tomorrow afternoon, he would be ready for whatever his Master had in store.

Little did he know just how true that would be.

The next day was even worse than the day before. Lukas dragged himself through his work, his movements slow and painful, his mind consumed by thoughts of Kent and what the coming weekend might bring.

As the hours ticked by with agonizing slowness, Lukas found himself wondering if perhaps he had made a terrible mistake. Was he really ready for this, for a whole weekend under Kent’s control? What if things went too far, what if he couldn’t handle it?

The doubts swirled in his mind, each one more troubling than the last. But even as they assailed him, Lukas knew he wouldn’t back down. He had committed to this, had pledged himself to Kent’s will. There could be no going back now, even if he wanted to.

Finally, the torturous day drew to a close. With a sense of grim determination, Lukas made his way home, each step a reminder of what awaited him there. As he entered his apartment building, his pulse quickened, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

This was it. The moment of truth. Whatever happened next, whatever the weekend might bring, Lukas was ready. He had to be. There was no other choice.

As instructed, Lukas had prepared for his Master’s arrival. He had stocked the refrigerator with premium beer, as requested, and made sure the apartment was spotless. Now all that remained was to get into position and await Kent’s command.

At precisely five o’clock, a sharp knock sounded at the door. Lukas, already naked and kneeling in the entryway, felt his pulse spike with anticipation. It was time. His Master had arrived.

Moving slowly, deliberately, Lukas crawled to the door and opened it. Just as he had hoped, Kent stood there, tall and imposing in his all-black ensemble. His sharp blue eyes raked over Lukas’s naked form, a glimmer of approval in their depths.

“Good boy,” he murmured, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “You’ve learned your lesson well.”

Lukas flushed with pride at the praise, even as he remained obediently on his hands and knees. “Thank you, Master,” he whispered, keeping his eyes lowered.

Kent moved further into the apartment, making himself comfortable on the sofa as if he owned the place. Which, in a way, he did. For as long as they were together, everything Lukas had was Kent’s to use as he saw fit.

“Bring me a beer,” Kent ordered, settling back against the cushions. “The one you bought for me. I want to see if it’s up to my standards.”

Lukas hurried to obey, scurrying to the kitchen on hands and knees. He retrieved a bottle of premium German lager from the refrigerator, then made his way back to Kent, crawling slowly so as not to spill a drop.

When he reached the sofa, Lukas knelt up, offering the beer to his Master with both hands. Kent took it without a word, twisting off the cap and taking a long swallow. His eyes never left Lukas as he drank, his gaze piercing and intent.

After a moment, Kent lowered the bottle, a small smile playing about his lips. “Not bad,” he said, almost to himself. “You have good taste in beer, I’ll give you that.”

Lukas breathed a silent sigh of relief. If Kent was pleased with the beer, perhaps the weekend ahead wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Now then,” Kent continued, setting the bottle down on the coffee table. “I think it’s time we got started

Kent leaned back against the sofa, spreading his legs wide. He looked down at Lukas, still kneeling on the floor between his feet, and smirked. “Come closer,” he ordered, his tone allowing no room for argument. “It’s time you started earning your keep.”

Lukas obeyed at once, shuffling forward on his knees until he was close enough to touch Kent’s booted feet. He kept his eyes lowered, focusing on the scuffed leather toes rather than daring to look up at his Master’s face.

“Good,” Kent said, his approval evident. “Now be a good boy and unzip my trousers. Slowly.”

Lukas’s hands trembled slightly as he reached for the zipper. He tugged it down inch by inch, his heart pounding in his chest. As the backs of his fingers brushed against the hard length of Kent’s cock, straining against the fabric of his underwear, Lukas bit back a whimper of need.

But Kent was watching, always watching. “I said slowly,” he growled, grabbing a fistful of Lukas’s hair and forcing his head up. “Do it right, or you’ll regret it.”

Lukas winced at the pull on his scalp, but he didn’t try to break free. Instead, he focused on slowing his movements, on drawing out the moment as his Master had commanded. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the zipper was fully down.

“Now,” Kent said, releasing his hold on Lukas’s hair, “take out my cock and start sucking. And make it good, or I’ll make you sorry.”

Lukas didn’t need to be told twice. With eager hands, he reached into Kent’s underwear, freeing the hard length of his cock. It sprang free eagerly, already fully erect and glistening with pre-cum.

The sight and smell of it made Lukas dizzy with desire. Without hesitation, he leaned forward and took the throbbing member into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip before beginning to bob up and down.

Kent let out a low moan of pleasure, his hand coming to rest on the back of Lukas’s head. His fingers curled into Lukas’s hair, guiding his movements and setting the pace.

“That’s it,” Kent murmured, his breathing already growing heavier. “Just like that. You know how to suck a cock properly, I’ll give you that.”

Encouraged by the praise, Lukas redoubled his efforts. He took Kent deeper into his throat, relaxing his gag reflex and swallowing around the hard length. His tongue worked tirelessly, tracing the prominent vein on the underside of Kent’s shaft before swirling around the head once more.

Above him, Kent groaned again, his hips beginning to move in time with Lukas’s mouth. “Fuck,” he breathed, his fingers tightening in Lukas’s hair. “That feels so good. You’re a natural-born cocksucker, aren’t you?”

The crude words sent a fresh wave of arousal washing over Lukas. He moaned in response, the sound vibrating around Kent’s thick shaft. If this was what his Master wanted, what he needed, then Lukas would gladly give it to him.

Time lost all meaning as Lukas serviced Kent’s cock. Minutes passed, maybe hours, as he sucked and licked and worshiped the hard length with his mouth. Kent’s reactions spurred him on—every moan, every curse, every involuntary thrust of his hips only made Lukas more determined to please.

Finally, after an eternity of this blissful service, Lukas felt Kent’s body begin to tense. His breathing grew sharper, his movements more erratic, and Lukas knew he was close.

But just as Kent was about to climax, his eyes fell on the now-empty beer bottle sitting on the coffee table. With a muttered curse, he pushed Lukas away, his cock popping free from that willing mouth with a wet sound.

Lukas fell back onto his haunches, panting heavily, his lips red and swollen from his efforts. He looked up at Kent in confusion, wondering what he had done wrong.

But before he could ask, Kent reached down and grabbed him by the hair once more. Using this painful grip, he pulled Lukas close until their faces were only inches apart.

“Look what you made me do, you stupid bitch,” Kent snarled, shaking Lukas’s head from side to side. “My beer is empty, and you just let it happen. What kind of slave are you?”

Lukas whimpered, tears springing to his eyes from the pain. “I’m sorry, Master,” he begged. “I didn’t mean to. Please forgive me.”

But Kent was beyond reason. With a harsh laugh, he released his hold on Lukas’s hair and reached back to uncoil the belt from his trousers. The strip of heavy leather made a soft slithering sound as it slid free, and Lukas felt his stomach clench with fear.

“Since you like sucking cock so much,” Kent said, his eyes glittering dangerously, “I think we’ll use this belt to teach you a lesson. Hold out your hands.”

Lukas hesitated for just a moment before obeying. There was no point in fighting, no point in resisting. Kent would do as he wished, and Lukas would endure it. That was their agreement, the foundation upon which their twisted relationship was built.

Kent grabbed both of Lukas’s wrists in one strong hand, pulling them forward roughly. Then, before Lukas could prepare himself, he looped the belt around them and pulled it tight.

Lukas bit back a cry as the leather bit into his skin. His hands were effectively bound now, held tightly together by the strip of heavy leather. He pulled against the restraint instinctively, but it was no use. Kent had tied the belt too tightly for him to break free.

“There,” Kent said, a cruel smile twisting his lips. “Now you’re nicely secured. Just the way I like my slaves—bound, helpless, and ready for punishment.”

Without warning, he raised his free hand and brought it down across Lukas’s face in a sharp slap. The impact made Lukas’s head rock to the side, tears springing to his eyes as his cheek erupted in a stinging blaze of pain.

But Kent wasn’t finished. Again and again he struck Lukas across the face, alternating cheeks with brutal precision. Each blow was harder than the last, each one landing with a sharp crack that echoed through the small apartment.

Through it all, Kent continued to taunt him, hurling insults and degrading comments with every blow. “Stupid slut,” he snarled. “Worthless piece of shit. Is this all you’re good for, taking a cock down your throat and getting your face slapped like a cheap whore?”

Lukas didn’t try to respond. He knew Kent didn’t want or expect an answer. This was punishment, pure and simple—a reminder of Lukas’s place in their twisted dynamic, a warning against future transgressions.

Finally, after what felt like an endless barrage, Kent stopped. His chest was heaving with exertion, his eyes wild with adrenaline and lust. Lukas just knelt there, bound and trembling, his face on fire with pain.

“Now,” Kent growled, reaching down to grab Lukas’s bound wrists once more. “Since you forgot your place and let my beer run out, you can just suffer like the pathetic cock-hungry whore you are. No cock for you today. Only pain and humiliation.”

Without warning, Kent grabbed Lukas by the hair with his free hand, using the painful grip to drag him up onto his knees. Lukas cried out, the sound half-pain and half-pleasure, as Kent forced him into position.

“That’s better,” Kent purred, looking down at Lukas with cold satisfaction. “Now you look like the submissive little bitch you are. Ready and eager to serve your Master, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Master,” Lukas breathed, the words automatic now. “Anything you want, I’m yours to use.”

“Good.” Kent’s smile was cruel, promising pain to come. “Now, since you made the mistake of letting my beer run out, I’m going to have to punish you properly. And that means using this belt on more than just your hands.”

As he spoke, Kent released his grip on Lukas’s hair. But before Lukas could even begin to sag with relief, Kent’s hand came down across his face in another sharp slap.

The blow was hard enough to make Lukas’s ears ring, hard enough to snap his head to the side. He cried out, more in shock than pain, but Kent didn’t stop. Again and again the slaps rained down, each one landing on Lukas’s already tender cheeks.

Between blows, Kent continued to taunt and mock him. “Is this what you like, you disgusting faggot?” he snarled.  “Do you get off on being treated like a whore? On being slapped and humiliated like the worthless piece of shit you are?”

Lukas couldn’t answer, couldn’t even breathe. The blows were coming too fast now, too hard, each one making it impossible to focus on anything else. All he could do was kneel there and take it, bound and helpless as Kent rained down his punishment.

Lukas was gasping for breath, his eyes watering with pain and humiliation. But before he could even begin to recover, Kent was on him once more. With rough hands, he untied the belt that bound Lukas’s wrists, tossing it aside carelessly.

“Get me another beer,” he ordered, already reaching for his zipper once more. “And this time, don’t you dare let it run out. If you do, I’ll make you regret it. Now move, you useless piece of shit.”

Lukas didn’t hesitate. Despite the pain, despite the degradation, he knew what was expected of him. With shaking hands, he pushed himself up onto his knees and scurried to the kitchen, well aware of Kent’s eyes on him the entire time.

As he retrieved another bottle of beer from the refrigerator, Lukas caught a glimpse of himself in the reflective surface of the microwave. His face was bright red from Kent’s slaps, his cheeks hot and throbbing with pain. The sight sent a fresh wave of humiliation washing over him, but beneath it came the now-familiar surge of arousal.

He was a slave, a plaything for his Master’s use. And if this was what Kent wanted, if this was how he chose to punish Lukas’s transgressions, then so be it. It was no less than he deserved.

With the beer clutched tightly in one hand, Lukas made his way back to the living room. Kent was still sitting on the couch, his erect cock jutting up proudly from his open trousers. The sight made Lukas’s mouth water with renewed desire, but he knew better than to go to him without permission.

Instead, he sank back down to his knees in front of the couch, offering the beer to Kent with both hands. Just as he had before, he held the bottle up to his Master, waiting patiently to be graced with Kent’s attention.

Kent took the beer without a word, twisting off the top and taking a long swallow. He never took his eyes off Lukas, drinking deeply before lowering the bottle once more.

“That’s better,” he murmured, a smirk playing about his lips. 

“Now then,” he continued, setting the beer aside once more, “I think it’s time for your next lesson. Get on the table, on all fours, facing the couch.”

Lukas obeyed without hesitation. He crawled up onto the low coffee table, positioning himself on hands and knees as Kent had instructed. The smooth surface was cool against his heated skin, but he barely noticed. His attention was focused solely on his Master, on the thick cock that still jutted up invitingly from his open trousers.

“Good boy,” Kent said, approval clear in his tone. He stood and moved to stand behind Lukas, one hand gripping his hip while the other guided his straining erection to Lukas’s waiting hole.

“You’ve been a naughty little slut,” Kent growled as he began to push inside. He made no move to prepare Lukas, to stretch him or ease the way. He simply shoved forward, forcing his thick length into Lukas’s tight passage without pause or mercy.

Lukas cried out at the sudden intrusion, pain and pleasure melding together in a dizzying swirl. He felt his hole stretch to accommodate Kent’s girth, felt himself being forced to open for his Master’s cock.

“It'll hurt a little,” Kent continued, still pushing deeper with each passing moment. “No lube for you, slut. You’re going to take it raw, just the way I like it. And you’d better get used to this feeling, because it’s going to be a familiar one before I’m through with you.”

As Kent spoke, he finally bottomed out, his pelvis flush against Lukas’s ass. He held there for a moment, savoring the feel of Lukas’s tight heat gripping him so perfectly. Then, without warning, he drew back before slamming forward once more.

The force of the thrust made Lukas cry out again, but Kent didn’t let up. He set a brutal pace from the very start, pounding into Lukas’s vulnerable hole with deep, powerful strokes. His hands gripped Lukas’s hips tightly, holding him in place for this merciless onslaught.

With each thrust, Kent’s balls slapped against Lukas’s taint, the wet sound of their coupling filling the air. Lukas could feel every inch of that thick shaft as it pistoned in and out of him, stretching and filling him in ways he had never experienced before.

The pain was intense, but so was the pleasure, each thrust sending sparks of sensation shooting through his body like fireworks.

Above it all, Kent’s voice was a steady stream of filth and degradation. “That’s it,” he grunted, his words punctuated by the sound of flesh on flesh. “Take my cock like the greedy whore you are. This is all you’re good for, all you’ll ever be good for.”

Lukas moaned in response, barely able to form coherent thoughts through the haze of pain and pleasure. All he knew was the feel of Kent’s cock, splitting him open and filling him completely. It was too much, too intense, but at the same time it wasn’t enough.

“Harder,” he heard himself begging, the word torn from him with each brutal thrust. “Please, Master, harder. I need it. I need your cock.”

Kent laughed, a cruel sound devoid of any real humor. “You’re in no position to be making demands, slut,” he snarled, leaning down until his chest was pressed against Lukas’s back.

As he spoke, one hand came up to tangle in Lukas’s hair, pulling his head back sharply. The move exposed his neck, and Kent didn’t hesitate to take advantage.

He leaned in, sinking his teeth into the tender flesh where Lukas’s neck and shoulder met. The bite was hard enough to break skin, and Lukas cried out once more at the fresh wave of pain.

But even as he whimpered and squirmed, he could feel his arousal spiking. There was something about this, about Kent’s rough treatment and degrading words, that spoke to him on a deep and primal level. It was as if he had been made for this, made to serve and suffer at the hands of a brutal Master.

And right now, that Master was Kent.

As the pain from the bite began to fade, Kent released his hold on Lukas's hair. Instead, he straightened once more, both hands gripping Lukas's hips with bruising force.

"Now," he growled, still thrusting deep and hard, "let's see how long you can stay quiet, you worthless little fucktoy. Let's see if you can keep from screaming like the bitch you are."

With that, Kent began to move even more fiercely. Each thrust was harder than the last, driving into Lukas with enough force to jolt him

But Lukas held on, focusing all his willpower on keeping silent. He bit his lip until he tasted blood, using the pain to distract from the burning in his hole, from the constant pounding that threatened to break him apart from the inside out.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he felt Kent's rhythm begin to falter. His thrusts became erratic, his grip on Lukas's hips tightening to the point of pain.

With a groan that was almost a roar, Kent gave one final thrust, burying himself balls-deep in Lukas's abused hole. He held there, grinding his hips in a tight circle as he rode out the last waves of his climax.

The feel of Kent's cum filling him, splashing against his inner walls, made Lukas's own dick twitch with interest. But he knew better than to touch himself, than to seek his own pleasure at a time like this. His only goal was to serve his Master, to bring Kent to completion in whatever way he saw fit.

As the last spurts of cum drained from his cock, Kent pulled out roughly, leaving Lukas feeling empty and used. He started to straighten up, to pull away and give Lukas some room to breathe, but then seemed to think better of it.

Instead, he leaned down across Lukas's back once more, using his greater weight to press him flat against the table. Lukas felt Kent's breath hot against his ear, felt the press of that still-semi-erect cock against the small of his back.

"You did well," Kent murmured, his tone almost approving. "You took my cock like a good little slut, and you kept quiet like I told you to. I think you've earned a reward."

Lukas felt a surge of hope at the words. He had done well, had pleased his Master despite the pain and degradation. He had earned whatever reward Kent might see fit to give him.

But as Kent shifted once more, Lukas realized what that reward would be. He felt the tip of Kent's cock rubbing over his hole once more, felt the press of it against his already sore and abused flesh.

It was too much. Even the slight pressure of Kent's cock against his entrance, slick with cum as it was, made Lukas wince with pain. There was no way he could take it again, not so soon after the last brutal pounding he had endured

But before he could voice any sort of protest, Kent was pushing inside once more. He entered Lukas slowly this time, his movements almost gentle after the rough treatment of before.

As Kent bottomed out inside him, he reached up to tangle his fingers in Lukas's hair once more. Using this painful grip for leverage, he pulled Lukas's head up and back, forcing him to arch sharply.

"That's it," Kent purred, his breath hot against Lukas's ear. "Take my cock, you worthless slut. Take it like you were born for it, because we both know that you were."

Then, still holding Lukas arched and helpless, Kent began to thrust. He rode him slowly at first, with deep and measured strokes, but it didn't take long for his rhythm to quicken once more.

This time there was no rush to completion, no brutal pace designed to punish and degrade. Instead, Kent took his time, using Lukas's moves. 

This time there was no rush to completion, no brutal pace designed to punish and degrade. Instead, Kent took his time, using Lukas's hole for his own pleasure, drawing out his own enjoyment as long as possible.

And through it all, he whispered filth and degradation in Lukas's ear, his words designed to break and demean.

"You love this, don't you?" Kent taunted him, his thrusts coming harder now, faster. "You love being my fucktoy, my little cumdump to use and abuse as I see fit."

Lukas could barely respond, could barely breathe. His world had narrowed down to Kent's cock, to the feel of it splitting him open and taking what it wanted from his willing body.

"You're nothing but a cock-hungry little slut," Kent continued, his voice hoarse with arousal now. "A worthless piece of shit who only exists to take dick and make your Masters happy."

The words should have been humiliating, degrading. They should have made Lukas feel small and worthless and used. But they didn't. Instead, they sent fresh waves of arousal washing over him, making his neglected cock throb with renewed interest.

Because Kent was right, however horrible it might be. Lukas did love this, did love being used and abused and treated like a worthless fucktoy. It was what he had been craving for so long, what he had needed even if he hadn't fully realized it himself.

And now, here it was. Now he had found what he craved, had found the one man who could give him exactly what he needed.

"Fuck," Kent gasped, his thrusts becoming erratic once more. His hand tightened in Lukas's hair, pulling viciously as he gave a final thrust and stilled. "Fuck yes, take it. Take my cum, you dirty little cumslut."

As he spoke, Lukas felt that familiar splash of wet heat inside him. Kent's cum filled him once more, coating his inner walls and dripping out around the thickness of his cock. The sensation made Lukas moan, fresh arousal washing over him at the thought of being used in this way, of being treated like nothing more than a hole to be filled and used.

"That's it," Kent groaned, riding out the last waves of pleasure deep inside Lukas's body. "That's my good little cumdump. That's my perfect fucktoy."

Finally, when the last spurt of cum had drained from his cock, Kent straightened up once more. He pulled out roughly, leaving Lukas feeling empty and violated in the best possible way.

"Good boy," he said, reaching down to pat Lukas's rump almost affectionately. "Now, don't you fucking dare let my cum leak out of your hole. You're going to keep it inside you, where it belongs. Do you understand?"

Lukas nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. He remained where he was, bent over the low table with his ass in the air, as Kent moved away. He could hear the sound of a zipper being pulled up, then the rustle of fabric as Kent adjusted his clothing once more.

Finally, the couch cushions depressed as Kent sat down once more. "Come here," he ordered, clicking his tongue in that way Lukas already knew so well.

With careful, trembling movements, Lukas pushed himself up from the table. He turned, presenting his ass to Kent once more, and crawled across the floor until he reached the couch. Then, with some difficulty, he managed to clamber up into Kent's lap, seating himself on his Master's legs.

Kent's hand came down on his rump once more, a sharp smack that made Lukas jump. "Legs spread," he growled, already reaching for his beer once more. "I want to see my cum leaking out of you, you disgusting little fucktoy."

Lukas obeyed at once, spreading his legs wide and planting his feet firmly on the cushions. He could feel the cum starting to trickle out of him now, the fluid already starting to cool on his inner thighs.

"That's better," Kent purred, taking another long drink of beer. "Now you look like what you are—a worthless cumdump with only one purpose in life. Isn't that right, you stupid slut?"

"Yes, Master," Lukas whispered, the words coming naturally now. He sagged in Kent's lap, all the fight gone out of him for the moment. His body ached and his hole throbbed, but at the same time he had never felt so satisfied, so complete.

Kent had given him exactly what he needed, exactly what he craved. He had given Lukas the treatment he deserved, had used him and abused him and filled him with cum.

And as he sat there, feeling that fluid trickle out of him and coat his thighs, Lukas knew he would do anything to feel this way again. He would give anything for the chance to be Kent's full-time fucktoy, his worthless little cumdump to be used and abused at will.

Because that was what he was, what he had always been. And now, thanks to Kent, he finally had the chance to embrace it.

Kent took another sip of his beer, eyeing Lukas speculatively over the rim of the bottle. Lukas squirmed a little in his lap, trying not to let the cum trickle out of his hole too quickly.

“Now then,” Kent said finally, lowering the bottle once more. “Since you’ve behaved yourself so far, I think it’s time we moved on to the next stage of your training. What do you say to that, hmm? Are you ready to learn what it really means to be my full-time slave?”

Lukas shuddered at the words, a fresh wave of arousal washing over him despite his exhaustion. He still felt the effects of Kent’s brutal treatment, but even so he couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through him at his Master’s words.

“Yes, Master,” he breathed, squirming a little in Kent’s lap. The movement made more of the cum trickle out of him, and he winced a little at the feeling.

“Good,” Kent said, his tone approving. “I’m glad to hear it. Because from now until Monday morning, that’s exactly what you’re going to be. You’re going to be my slave, my property, my personal fucktoy to use in any way I see fit. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” Lukas repeated, nodding eagerly. He spread his legs a little wider, arching his back in a silent offering. Whatever Kent wanted from him, however he chose to use Lukas’s willing body, he was ready to accept it without question or complaint.

“Of course you do,” Kent purred, shifting a little beneath him. “You’re a smart boy, even if you are a worthless little cumdump. Now then, let’s get started. But first,” he added, eyeing the beer in his hand, “I think we could both use a drink. Go and get an empty glass from the kitchen, and I’ll pour you something to drink. After all, we wouldn’t want you getting too lightheaded and fainting on me, now would we?”

Lukas started to rise at once, eager to obey his new Master’s command. But before he could move more than a few inches, Kent’s hand closed around his wrist like a vice.

“Ah, ah,” he chided, tugging until Lukas had no choice but to collapse back into his lap. “I don’t think I was finished with you yet, did I? After all, there’s still plenty of my cum inside you, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste. Wouldn’t you agree, you greedy little cumslut?”

Lukas whimpered again, shifting in Kent’s lap. He could feel more of the fluid trickling out of him as he moved, could feel it cooling on his skin and dripping down the inside of his thighs.

“Yes, Master,” he managed, though his voice was breathy with arousal now.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Kent growled, shifting once more beneath him. “Now, I think I’ll have you get me a refill on my drink, then I’ll pour you one as well. What do you think of that, hmm?”

“Yes, Master,” Lukas said again, trying not to whimper with need. His cock was hard once more, throbbing between his legs as he shifted in Kent’s lap.

“Good boy,” Kent approved. “Go and get me a refill, then come back here. And once you’re back, you’re going to lick the rim of your glass clean before you drink from it, is that understood?”

Lukas bit back a moan at the words, fresh arousal flooding through him at the degrading command. Kent chuckled softly, clearly amused by his reaction.

“That’s my good little cumslut,” he purred, giving Lukas’s ass another slap. “Now go on, like the good boy you are.”

Lukas scrambled to obey, pushing himself up from Kent’s lap with trembling legs. He could feel cum still leaking from his hole with each movement, trickling down the insides of his thighs in thick, sticky streams. The sensation sent fresh arousal washing through him, and he had to bite his lip to hold back a whimper as he made his way into the kitchen.

There, he found a glass in one of the cabinets, then turned to the fridge in fetching another beer for Kent to drink. 

Once both items were in hand, he hurried back to the living room once more. There, he found Kent lounging on the couch, his feet up on the low table and a look of amusement on his face.

Lukas moved to stand beside him, offering the items he carried. Kent took them both, setting the glass on the table and using one hand to pop the cap from the beer.

“Now then,” he said, taking a long pull from the bottle before setting it aside as well. “I believe you have a job to do, don’t you?”

Lukas dropped to his knees at once, positioning himself between Kent’s outstretched legs. His hole clenched and unclenched, sending fresh waves of sensation through his body as he went.

He picked up the glass once more, bringing it to Kent’s crotch as he had been told. There, he used his tongue to lap up any trace of cum that might have escaped, licking the length of Kent’s softening shaft before moving lower to clean his balls as well.

Finally, when he was finished, he held the glass up to Kent once more. Kent took it, using his free hand to stroke Lukas almost tenderly.

“Good boy,” he murmured, approval clear in his tone. “That’s a very good boy. Now, I think it’s about time you got your own drink. What do you say we share this one, hmm?”

Without waiting for a response, Kent leaned forward until the tip of his cock was pressed against the rim of the glass. There, he proceeded to piss, filling the glass with his frothy yellow urine.

“Now we’re all set,” he laughed, handing the glass back to Lukas once he was done. “Here we are, each of us with our own yellow, frothy beverage.”

Lukas took the glass in trembling hands, his eyes locked on Kent’s. His Master smiled at him, a cruel glint in his eye, then gestured to the glass with a sharp jerk of his chin.

“Drink up,” he ordered, taking another sip from his own beer. “Drink it all down, like the good little piss-slut you are.”

Lukas hesitated, feeling his stomach twist with sudden nausea. He had never done this before, had never been asked to do something like this, and the thought of actually drinking the liquid made him feel more than a little sick.

But at the same time, he couldn’t deny the fresh wave of arousal that flooded through him at the command. His cock throbbed between his legs, already hard once more despite everything he had been through so far. The thought of obeying his Master’s orders, of being so thoroughly degraded and humiliated, was almost too much to bear.

“Drink,” Kent growled again, his voice rough with impatience now. “Drink it down, you filthy little piss pig, unless you’d like me to find other uses for it.”

The implied threat was enough to spur Lukas into action at last. He lifted the glass to his lips, feeling his hand tremble as he did so, then tilted it until the liquid inside touched his tongue.

It was warm and salty, with a bitter undertone that made his throat clench with sudden revulsion. He gagged a little, but forced himself to keep going, swallowing as much of the urine as he could before pulling the glass away again.

“Keep going,” Kent ordered, amusement clear in his voice now. “Keep going until it’s all gone, you disgusting piss-slut.”

Lukas did as he was told, lifting the glass back to his lips once more. The taste was just as bad the second time around, if not worse, but he forced himself to choke it down anyway.

As he drank, he could feel his cock throbbing harder than ever between his legs. His body was on fire with arousal, despite the degradation of what he was doing, and he found himself whimpering softly as he swallowed the last of Kent’s piss.

“There we go,” Kent said, taking the glass from him and setting it aside. “That wasn’t so bad now, was it? Although,” he added, his expression hardening a little, “I did notice you hesitated before you started drinking. Is there a problem?”

“No, Master,” Lukas gasped, shaking his head quickly. “No problem, I just—”

He broke off as Kent’s hand lashed out, delivering a sharp smack to his already sore ass.

“Just what?” Kent demanded, already drawing his hand back for another blow. “Just what, you disgusting little piss-pig? Don’t you know it’s disrespectful to keep your Master waiting?”

Lukas cried out as the second blow landed, harder than the first had been. “No, Master. I mean yes. I mean I won’t do it again.”

“See that you don’t,” Kent growled, delivering three more rapid slaps to Lukas’s defenseless ass. “Do you know what happens to naughty boys who keep their Masters waiting, hmm? Do you know what happens to disgusting little piss-pigs who don’t obey orders right away?”

“No, Master,” Lukas whimpered, squirming under the onslaught. “Please, no more.”

But Kent ignored his pleas. Instead, he reached down to take hold of Lukas’s cock, gripping it tightly as he continued to rain blows down on his upturned ass.

“You’re going to find out,” he promised darkly. “You’re going to learn exactly what happens to filthy little whores who don’t behave themselves. And once you have,” he added, giving Lukas’s trapped cock a sharp tug, “you’re never going to make that mistake again. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Master!” Lukas cried, thrusting helplessly into Kent’s cruel grip. “Yes, I understand. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

“Good,” Kent purred, finally releasing his hold on Lukas’s straining erection. He stood, grabbing Lukas by the arm and dragging him to his feet as well, then gave him a sharp push toward the table.

“Up,” he ordered. “Time you learned exactly what happens to naughty piss-pigs around here.”

With that, he gave Lukas another push, urging him toward the table. Lukas stumbled forward, his ass on fire and his cock still hard between his legs

He made his way around the low piece of furniture, then bent over it once more, presenting his ass for whatever punishment Kent had in mind.

Behind him, he heard the sound of a belt being drawn through denim, then the slap of leather against skin. He jumped a little, whimpering softly in anticipation of what was to come.

“Count,” Kent ordered as the belt descended. “And if you lose count, we’ll start all over again. Do you understand?”

Lukas nodded quickly, bracing himself. “Yes, Master.”

“Good.” The belt came down once more, landing across both ass cheeks with a loud crack. “I’m glad we understand each other, you worthless little fucktoy. Now, let’s see how long you last before you start begging for mercy, hmm?”

The belt landed again, harder this time. Lukas cried out at the pain, but made no move to get away.

“One,” he gasped, squirming a little at the fresh wave of agony. “Oh god, one.”

“Two.” This time the belt caught him across the top of the thighs, and Lukas howled at the pain.

“Two!”

“Three.” Another blow, this one landing across his ass once more and making him jerk and cry out.

“Three, oh god, three.”

It went on like that, blow after blow raining down across Lukas’s unprotected flesh. He lost count at some point, the pain too much to focus on the numbers anymore, and by the time Kent finally stopped he was a sobbing, trembling wreck.

His ass was on fire, the flesh hot and swollen from the beating he had just endured. His cock hung heavy between his legs, still hard despite everything, and he could feel fresh tears streaming down his face.

Kent tossed the belt aside, then reached down to run his hand almost tenderly over the small of Lukas’s back. “There, there,” he crooned, almost mockingly. “There, there. I know it hurts, but you brought this on yourself, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Master,” Lukas managed, his voice hoarse from crying. “I brought it on myself.”

“Of course you did.” Kent’s hand moved lower, coming to rest on Lukas’s abused rump. He squeezed, making Lukas cry out once more at the fresh wave of pain, then laughed softly.

“I think that’s enough punishment for now, don’t you?” he murmured. “After all, you learned your lesson, didn’t you?”

Lukas nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet. His whole body was shaking, and he felt like he might collapse at any moment.

But then Kent’s fingers were moving lower, probing at his sore and well-used hole. They slipped inside, and Lukas found himself pushing back against them despite himself.

“That’s it,” Kent growled approvingly. “That’s my good little slut. You love this, don’t you? Love being treated like a worthless fucktoy, like a piece of meat to be used and punished as I see fit.”

“Yes, Master,” Lukas breathed, unable to deny it any longer. “Yes, I love it.”

“Good,” Kent approved. His fingers moved deeper, pressing against Lukas’s prostate and making him cry out once more. “Then let’s see if we can’t work you up to one final orgasm before bedtime, shall we? After all,” he added with a laugh, “you’ve certainly earned it after putting up with all of this, haven’t you?”

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