"Twenty-one," Tellis grunted through clenched teeth, the barbell trembling slightly above his chest as his arms locked into position. Sweat rolled slowly down the massive ebony planes of his shoulders and pecs, disappearing beneath the deep armholes of his tank top. The gym smelled like iron and disinfectant, the kind of sterile cleanliness that never quite masked the musk of effort underneath.
Just to his right, his slave knelt motionless—knees flush with the mat, spine straight, eyes fixed on the floor between its own splayed thighs. Its collar gleamed dully under the fluorescent lights, the lock snug against the hollow of its pale throat. Its permanent chastity cage remained in place and immobile, consistent with its posture. Tellis exhaled sharply and lowered the weight again with controlled precision. Even exhausted, he moved with the heavy confidence of a man fully aware of his own strength. His body looked carved rather than built—thick neck, enormous chest, a back so broad it seemed to swallow the bench beneath him.
The slave didn't twitch when Tellis' phone buzzed against the nearby bench, the sound sharp and intrusive. It didn't glance up when a group of guys at the cable machines burst into laughter. It didn't react at all—not until Tellis' breathing hitched slightly, a quiet but unmistakable shift in the rhythm of his reps.
Letting the barbell settle into the rack with a metallic clang, Tellis stood up abruptly. He rose to his full imposing height in front of his slave, his hands going to his hips as he stretched his shoulders back. The slave moved before its owner even spoke. Its fingers worked quickly at the waistband of Tellis' shorts, loosening the fabric with practiced efficiency. Its hands were warm where they brushed against the skin, but it didn't linger —just hooked the elastic down far enough to free the enormous cock before tilting its head up, mouth already open. Tellis didn't look down as he let go, the first hot splash hitting the back of the slave's throat without a sound. He flexed his fingers absently against his hips, watching the clock on the far wall tick steadily forward.
The slave swallowed reflexively, throat working around the steady stream as Tellis' gaze drifted lazily over the gym, the distant clatter of weights and the low hum of conversation passing unregistered. His fingers tapped a slow rhythm against his hips, knuckles brushing the waistband of his shorts where they'd been tugged down just enough. The slave's tongue pressed flat beneath him, catching every drop with practiced efficiency.
Tellis exhaled through his nose, shifting his weight slightly. The slave adjusted instantly, tilting its chin up further to take him deeper, the stretch of its lips barely visible in Tellis' periphery. He could feel his slave's jaw flex slightly as the last of the stream tapered off, the heat of its mouth lingering for a beat before it pulled back just enough to lick him clean, its tongue dragging up his impressive length with deliberate thoroughness. Its careful fingers tugged Tellis' waistband back into place, smoothing the fabric over his hips before adjusting the massive bulge with a fleeting, almost reverent touch of both hands.
Without looking down, Tellis turned around and flexed his abs, letting out a short, sharp fart directly into his slave's face. The sound was muffled by the closeness of their bodies, but the warmth wasn't. The slave didn't flinch, didn't cough—just inhaled shallowly through its nose and held the breath for a second too long before exhaling silently. Its hands settled down behind its back, spine straightening as it resumed its previous posture: head bowed, splayed thighs, gaze fixed on the floor.
Tellis rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck lazily to one side before turning back to the bench. The barbell waited where he'd left it, the weights still stacked neatly on either side. He gripped the bar, knuckles popping as he settled back onto the bench. The slave's presence faded into the background again, as inconspicuous as the hum of the overhead lights or the faint smell of rubber and sanitizer. Tellis inhaled deeply, chest expanding as he lifted the bar clear of the rack. The metal was cool against his palms, the familiar weight settling into his muscles as he began his next set. "Twenty-two," he muttered, the word rough with exertion.
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