I gave Master James no reason to discipline me in the weeks after taking the wrath of the devil’s tail. Within that time I’d selflessly devoted myself to serving HIM without question nor hesitation.
One morning after breakfast I heard Master making some noise in HIS garage. When I went to see what all the commotion was about HE called me over to HIM.
“Perfect timing, faggot. Come here.”
I proceeded toward HIM when he grabbed me by the collar HE gifted me.
“Stay”, HE demanded.
Master James produced a soldering iron and welded the lock, sealing it completely around my neck. There would never be a way out.
“Yes, that should do it. Go!”, HE said.
For the rest of the day I was left to wonder why HE decided to do that. I lost focus. Instead of concentrating on HIS needs, I was seeking an explanation. It didn’t go unnoticed.
After I’d served HIM dinner, I was summoned to the dining room.
“Faggot!”
“Yes Master.”
“This meal was subpar. Explain yourself.”
“I’m sorry Master. Permission to ask a question?”
“You may.”
“Why did you…”
“Because I felt it. Because I could. Because it’s what you need. Is that why you overcooked this chicken, faggot?”
“I’m sorry, Master.”
“I don’t accept your apology and never will. Mistakes happen when you lose focus. You’re dismissed.”
I could tell by HIS tone this was not something HE would overlook and I’d soon find out I was correct.
I cleared the table and did the dishes, all the while wondering what HE would do to me. Master James was a master at playing mind games with me, knowing full well that I’d be on edge until the punishment came. My hand wrapped around the thick metal collar around my neck and it finally hit me that it would never be removed. I was Master’s chosen faggot forever. I was overcome with emotion.
Master James had retreated upstairs to ready HIMself for bed and I went to assist HIM.
Master had already stripped down to HIS boxers and I pulled down HIS bedspread and top sheet, as was my nightly routine.
Depending on Master’s mood, I was sometimes permitted to sleep next to him after anal usage. Sometimes I slept on the floor at the foot of the bed. Other times I was sent to sleep in the other bedroom when Master wanted privacy.
Something seemed off with Master James that night. He hadn’t told me where I’d be sleeping and that was unusual.
Master finished brushing his teeth and when I was pulling down the window shades, he grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around.
“You disappointed me tonight, faggot. On the very same day I gifted you the honor of wearing MY collar permanently and what do you do? You served ME a shitty meal and have the audacity to question MY actions?”
“I’m so…”
“No! No! I’m not interested in an apology. I don’t want to hear that ever again, faggot!”
Master James dragged me downstairs by the back of my collar and affixed a chain to the O-ring that dangled below it. I was made to face the wall, standing up as the chain was connected and locked to a hook. I couldn’t move my head at all or I’d choke to death. My lips were two inches from kissing the wall.
Master James stepped away for a few minutes and next thing I know a metal spreader bar is attached to my ankles.
I knew what was coming and there was nothing I could do to stop it. There would be no sense to expend wasteful energy. I had been on the receiving end of severe beatings before and I was sure another one was on the way.
Master James beat my ass and back with a leather strap. Every strike stung so badly, every red mark deliberately inflicted to teach me a lesson, and when HE felt it was enough, HE dropped the leather implement to the floor.
I was panting, sweating, my ass and back aching and sore, sobbing, broken and schooled.
“Good night, faggot.”
Master James just left me there, attached by the collar with my legs spread wide apart.
It was my fault. I chastised myself for allowing a lapse of concentration. Failure required discipline. Master James was a hard, unforgiving man. HE never displayed affection toward me, just expectation. master showed me no positive reinforcement, ever, there was only criticism and discipline when required. In HIS eyes, I was a thing that served HIM, nothing more.
It was torturous trying to find sleep in an upright position, unable to move my head, my legs became stiff in the spreader.
Just as the sun was coming up, Master James came up behind me and rubbed his throbbing cock against my asshole.
“Sleep well, faggot?”, HE asked at the same time as penetrating me.
I suppose for HIM it was in the perfect position to take HIS cock from behind. I was used to being HIS cum receptacle in the morning, I suppose I should have expected it.
I could have wallowed in the misery of my physical state. Having been badly beaten, my body exhausted from an inability to move freely, but somehow feeling HIM fill me with HIS morning wood brought me back to life. It made the sacrifice worthwhile.
“Yes Master, thank you.”, I hissed.
Master found humor in my response and chuckled.
“Of course you did, faggot”, with a single, deliberate thrust.
Most people would think I’m out of my right mind subjecting myself to HIM as I do, but once I get some of HIS cock, I feel validated. It’s the prize I exist to receive.
Master placed his hands around my collared throat and his own hips began to drive his cock in and out of my rectum. Master James dripped spit down to his cock to accommodate a smoother glide.
My balls began to churn in its cage from weeks of build up. I willed my cock from trying to harden in its cage. I was there to serve HIM, nothing more than a cum bucket.
Master James seemed to get off on HIS dominance over me. HE was especially aggressive that morning, cumming hard and loud.
I was released once HE relieved his balls. I was left with fuller balls, no relief.
“Breakfast. Poached.”, HE requested.
I learned quickly there was never a need to say “yes Master”. No, Master preferred action over words.
I quickly stepped into the kitchen and got things going in there.
Master James reappeared after a few minutes smelling like sandalwood and soap.
HE sat down at the table that lacked more than a single chair and I poured HIS hot coffee.
As HE sipped I prepared his eggs and wheat toast, light butter, light strawberry jam.
I placed the plate on the table and Master James gripped my wrist like a viper.
“Look at me!”
My eyes met HIS.
“Do better, faggot! Focus! Wearing MY collar is your honor. Act like it!”
He released my wrist. Message received.
I merely nodded my understanding. It wasn’t a conversation or a debate, it was an order.
Interestingly, a couple of nights later, after dinner, Master James summoned me to the living room.
“Knees!”
I knelt.
“Watch”
Master made sure my full attention was on the television screen. HE hit play and walked away.
It was the movie Pillion. I could relate to the story of Colin (submissive)and Ray (Master), for sure. It was a thought provoking film. Ray could be so cruel towards Collin, and ultimately saved the most cruel act for last. Although the film did not ever show Colin being physically disciplined for disobedience, it was implied. Ray expected full obedience from HIS sub without question.
I deduced Master James made me watch it to send a message to never expect more from our dynamic. I would always be less-than, always HIS submissive faggot.
When the movie ended, Master James returned and turned the tv off.
“You can sleep on the floor tonight, faggot”.
Just like Colin…and again, another message sent.
Before falling asleep, I reflected on Pillion again. I thought about Colin’s propensity for obedience, his pain tolerance, his ability to navigate a difficult and unbending Master, and then I thought about the fatal flaw of falling in love with him and wanting to take days off and to be treated as an equal.
Master James hardly gave me the time of day. Boundaries have been clear since the beginning. Faggots don’t get loved by their Masters, they get used. Days off…laughable. My master would never allow it. I would never make that mistake. I knew my rightful place in the hierarchy of MEN, faggots are at the very bottom, the scum under HIS shoe, and I was perfectly accepting of that.
Finally, I fell asleep listening to the sound of HIM lightly snoring in HIS comfortable bed. I found an odd sense of joy in the denial of creature comforts, no pillow, no mattress, no clothes. Joy in the denial of freedom to speak, of free time, of masturbation. I finally felt all of the puzzle pieces of my adolescence made sense. Master James actualized my true authentic self to surface, creating the space and the path to get there.
The next morning I woke up more refreshed than I had been in years. It felt like an awakening. Master James was right, welding the collar shut was exactly what I needed.
I woke up ready and eager to serve HIM.
I knelt at the foot of the bed, waiting for Master to open his eyes.
Without fanfare, Master James stretched his limbs and sat at the edge of the bed barely noticing me. He stood, walked two steps in my direction.
“Open”
I was gifted with HIS morning wood. Master’s cock sat in my mouth for a brief period before releasing HIS bladder and wiping off the remnants on my face.
“On the bed, faggot!”
I positioned myself at the edge of the bed and pulled my cheeks apart.
Master spit right on my balloon knot a couple of times and pushed HIS cock inside me. I prayed my balls would not erupt without permission while HE pounded my pussy out. I’d been edging now for days and I knew one day I would not be able to hold it in. Today was not that day, but it was close, very close. I was likely just seconds away from bursting but Master beat me to it. HIS semen was copious that morning and fulfilled me more than HE’d ever know.
A half-hearted slap to the ass signified HIS orgasm had completed. Master pulled HIS cock from inside me and retreated to HIS bathroom to get HIMself ready for work.
I prepared HIS breakfast.
And that’s how the next few weeks went. Mundane but meaningful, at least for me.
It was…until it wasn’t.
One day Master James came home from work and that night things changed…Uh
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