Author’s note: If you’re under age or don’t want to read about gay domination, don’t read this. Otherwise, enjoy it.
What I Look For In My Twinks Chapter two Trace had e-mailed me asking if he could come over, and since I had nothing else planned, I gave him the okay. Yesterday afternoon I fucked another of my regulars, hot little slave boy Dave, and then last night I picked up a really cute young virgin named Ronnie who had a nice body and said he was sixteen but didn’t look a day over fourteen. I fucked him twice last night and then twice more this morning but hadn’t done anything since then. So I was horny when Trace arrived.
So he comes to my door and after he kisses my feet and calls me Master, he crawls into the middle of the living room, crouches down with his forehead on the floor and his hands clasped behind his back and waits. Trace; short for Tracy I guess, but I always thought Tracy was a girl’s name. I suppose that’s why he goes by Trace. I’ve been fucking him every once in a while for over a year now and he is not only a great cocksucker, but he’s totally obedient and as submissive as they come. In fact he’s one of the very few real muscle addicts that I’ve fucked a second or a third time, so you know he’s hot. I mean, to these hot little twinks I’m a high class SM Master and a would-be hustler, except I don’t charge, so they know they are fuckin privileged to serve me. They know they are lucky little fucks to even be allowed to be controlled by a gorgeous Master like me and they are more than willing to give their all just to be allowed to worship. Hey, I’m happy with it. They submit to me completely and I show them how exciting and satisfying it can be to pay homage to me and be a slave to their muscle god. And let me tell you, they may go away slightly bruised, but they go away happy.
Yeah, I’m a god. I’ve told you what I look like, and man, you see me you gotta swoon. My perfect gorgeous features attached to bulging traps leading to big round muscular deltoids. Those shoulders are incredible mounds of muscle, and the cuts between them and my monstrous biceps and triceps are nothing less than astonishing. And those biceps, you gotta see’em. Not just great lumps of muscle like most guys which are pretty damn impressive in themselves, but mine are perfectly defined muscles leading to a central peak which is beyond belief. And then my chest. Simply enormous. Great bulging slabs of muscle that were just made for submissive slaves to worship with their tongues. And the ridges of my abs are like steel and form into a perfect eight pack. But, as perfect as my upper body is, I really think my legs are my best features. Absolutely prodigious thighs and calves just waiting to be ravished by some hot little slave boy.
But hey, I ain’t overbuilt like some guys I’ve seen, so although I’m really, really big you know everything is in perfect proportion and I’d be equal to any of those guys who are winning body building contests. With my physical perfection I could compete in any of those contests, but it really doesn’t interest me. Being admired from a distance in a bodybuilding contest in no way compares with a gorgeous teenage hunk idolizing my muscles up close and begging me to allow him to kiss them.
You want to know how really hot I am? One of the busiest cruising areas in town is a small park just down the block from here and it’s busy because I live here, and most every guy who goes there has heard about me and hopes they’ll get picked up. It made the Damron Guide as best cruising area one year after I moved here.
I also think I must be the horniest stud around, because I’ve been known to do up to four twinks in a day and once when I doubled up I had six. Even though I’m particular about what twinks I pick up, they seem to be coming out of the woodwork and since I’m so fuckin dazzling I can pick them up at the drop of a hat. They’re available and my cock can never get enough, and there ain’t no limit on the number of guys I can subjugate and turn into submissive slave boys in a day. I mean, shit, that’s what I do. I overpower and dominate boys and fuck them. Taking control of young twinks and making them my worshiping slaves is my game, and I’m incredibly good at it.
I’ve also got a perfect situation since I’ve got a small apartment above the garage behind my parent’s house so I have complete privacy. They’re willing to keep supporting me so I spend a couple hours in the gym every day, and do a whole lot of fucking the rest of the time.
I know a lot of the guys like going to the baths, but that really ain’t my thing, partly because I’ve got more than I can handle right here in my own neighborhood. Besides, I like the seduction and the gradual domination of a really gorgeous twink in a one on one situation. I love seeing a kid kissing my feet after I’ve roughed him up a bit and made it clear that he’s my slave and that he’s lucky to be my slave. After I’ve got him shaped up so he knows I’m his Master, there ain’t nothing like getting a good hour of tongue worship covering every muscle on my body and then fucking the shit out of him a couple times. As I’ve told you, muscle worship is my thing and I’m really partial to blowjobs as well, so every single sexual encounter I’ve ever had has had a pretty mouth adoring my muscles first and then that same pretty mouth trying to swallow my nine inch schlong. There are few things more into the domination thing than forcing a kid to suck on a big fat cock. My cock is pretty damn big, and forcing it into a guy’s throat and making him choke on it is an incredible power trip. I mean, there ain’t nothing shows my power and superiority over a trick more than forcing him to choke on my big prick. Okay, so I know blowjobs aren’t everything since I usually follow it up with a hot fuck in a tight ass, but the domination muscle worship and the domination blowjob always come first. Always.
Before I get into the story of fucking Trace, I’d like to explain a couple things. One is ‘new fucks’ and one is ‘fantasy fucks’. Let’s start with the ‘new fucks’.
You may think, since I’m a dominant SM Master, that I knock my tricks around and abuse them a little while forcing them to crawl for me and that ain’t totally wrong. I mean, just the idea of battering them and raping them is very exciting, and, under the right circumstances, there ain’t really nothing wrong with that because that’s the sort of thing I can get into and enjoy. But if you really believe I do that kind of shit on a regular basis you ain’t been paying attention. I said I like them pretty, and I said I like them with some muscle, and I said I like them to be muscle worshipers. The magic here is ‘muscle worshipers’.
Hey, muscle worshipers are everywhere and a majority of them seem to be eighteen year olds. A muscle worshiper is what it says, a kid who is a rabid lunatic over muscle and wants to worship mine and will do anything to get me to allow it. Of course these kids want muscles of their own and they want to look like me, but because of our societies belief in instant gratification, if they can’t get there own immediately, they become wildly enthralled by mine, and are willing to do most anything to worship them.
There ain’t no question these kids know from the start that I’m a Master and will be in charge, and to gain access to my muscles they have to be willing to be my chattel. But every damn on of them has a secret craving to be dominated by a muscleman like me. Yes, before I even start to train them on how I want to be worshiped, they’re already into it and are prepared to do anything to fulfill their desire to make love to my body. From the very start they know that a muscle god like me deserves their total reverence and adoration and complete obedience.
Since these ‘new fucks’ are ready and willing to worship me I simply have to supervise them on how I want it done. It doesn’t take much to get them to slavor all over my muscles, and it doesn’t take a hell of a lot more to get a blowjob and a good tight ass fuck. They want me to be in charge and take total control of them and make them do my bidding, and, of course, that’s my game and I’m a virtuoso at it.
Now, about ‘fantasy fucks’. When I take a new twink, he knows I’m going to be in charge, but he doesn’t know exactly how it’s going to work out. He knows I’ll dominate but he’s so focused on my muscles that he can’t think of anything else. However, twinks that I’ve had before already know what to expect because I’ve trained them, so they have now become ‘fantasy fucks’. I fantasize about being a muscle Master and controlling and dominating them, and they fantasize about being a slave to me and submitting to my every whim. We both know what’s going to happen so we just act out the parts we play in the fantasy.
So, Trace has been a great fantasy fuck for over a year now, and a good one. That’s why I keep letting him come back for yet another session. But as I look down on him on his knees in my living room I realize he is giggling. The little son-of-a-bitch had got the giggles.
“You think this is funny, you little shit?” I growl at him. “Are you daring to laugh at your Master?”
“No, no Master. Please. I’m sorry” he said as he continued the stupid giggling. “I just can’t help it.”
“Well shut the fuck up before I throw your ass out of here. This ain’t no laughing matter.”
“I’m sorry, Master” he giggled even louder. “Please. I’m trying to stop. Really. I’m trying.” But he just couldn’t stop.
I’m telling you this story about Trace as an example of one of my fantasy fucks, but it really isn’t a good example. Most fuck sessions follow a script and both participants, me and the twink, enjoy it. But, here is the problem with a fantasy. In a fantasy each participant has to play his predetermined part; I play at being a Master and Trace plays at being a slave and as long as we stay in character we both enjoy the result. But Trace has now dropped out of character by laughing, which ruins the whole fantasy and makes it meaningless to even pretend that I’m his Master. So, I have two choices, kick him the hell out of my apartment, or drop the fantasy and decisively kick the shit out of him and fuck him anyway. Our fantasy has become so comfortable for him over recent months that he has forgotten how rough I’m capable of being.
Reaching down I grab him by the hair and jerk him up violently. “You stupid little fuck” I growl as I slap him hard across the face and then backhand him. The laughing stops instantly and he gets a shocked look on his face as he yelps from my slaps. I said I hit him hard and I did because his cheeks are already turning red. “Take my shoes off you piece of shit” I shout at him.
He instantly reaches down and removes my sandals as I step out of them, and then glances up at me. “Off, you idiot” I shout at him, and he takes my socks off as well. Grabbing him by the hair again, I jerk him up and give him another two hard slaps. There are tears in his eyes now, and he still has this shocked look on his face. “You think this is funny you little shit, I’ll show you what’s funny. Give me one of those socks.”
As he hands me one of the socks I squeeze his cheeks hard until he opens his mouth and then I stuff it in. “I’ll show you how funny this is. Go get your collar and leash.” Still on hands and knees he crawls into the bedroom and comes back holding his two inch wide black leather slave collar and his leash and bowing his head, hands them to me. I grab him by the hair and viciously jerk his head up again. “You stupid little fuck, how dare you think this is funny.” I can see that there is a look of fear in his eyes now. I’ve probably fucked him a couple dozen times in the past year or so and he’s left here with bruises, so he knows I can be rough and demanding and sometimes brutal, but he’s never seen me really angry. Not like this. He now realizes this was no laughing matter and he’s getting truly frightened.
I give him another slap and hold the collar in his face. “Kiss it.” He gives me a strange look, like ‘how do I do that’?
“Take the god damn sock out of your mouth, you stupid fuck” I shout at him. He instantly pulls the sock out of his mouth and kisses the collar. “Again, and slobber on it”. He kisses it some more as I continue holding it in front of his face, and gathering up some spit he gets it wet from end to end. I grab the sock and jam it back into his mouth and give him another back hand. Tears are really beginning to flow from his eyes either from the pain or real crying and both cheeks are bright red. I don’t give a shit and he’s going to be hurting a whole lot more before I’m done.
I fasten the collar around his neck, and grasping it, I lift his one hundred forty pounds up off his knees and just hold him there with the strength of one arm. Then I give him a pile driver slam to the stomach with my fist.
“Yeeeeeaaaaoh” I hear as a muffled scream since I’ve almost rearranged his intestines.
“Thank me for bothering with you” I yell at him as I drop him to his knees and as tears pour from his eyes. “Thank me, I said.”
After a short hesitation he grunts “Mmmg Mmmg” through the sock trying to say thank you. Amazingly enough his hands are still clasped behind his back even though he is in tremendous pain, which shows the power of my training.
“Now kiss my feet” I shout as I let go of his hair. Without looking up at me this time, he pulls the sock from his mouth, bends over and starts kissing my feet. I don’t give a damn one way or another whether a slave kisses my feet, but I like the idea of them having to grovel in front of me. It emphasizes for them that they truly are slaves and must do anything their Master desires. “Now, while you kiss my feet, you think of what punishment you deserve. Think of what I should do to you.”
I really was angry at first but I’ve calmed down a bit now, and am thinking of how I can turn this into a pleasurable fuck session. I mean, that’s what it’s all about, my pleasure. And since I like to kick ass anyway, here is a perfect opportunity to really let myself go and be as sadistic and violent as I want on a twink who knows he deserves it.
Lifting one foot, I put it on the side of his head and start grinding his cheek into the carpet. “Tell me how fuckin sorry you are” I shout.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he babbles as I’m trying to mash his head into the rug. “I’m sorry, Master. Please, I’m sorry. Please. Please.”
“Put that damn sock back in your mouth” I order him as I lift my foot off his face. He instantly jams it back in his mouth. Attaching the leash to the collar, I head into the bedroom forcing him to scurry along on hands and knees behind me.
“Strip” I order him as I set on the side of the bed and unfasten the leash from the slave collar. He quickly removes shoes and socks and then his t-shirt, shorts and underwear. In about ten seconds he’s totally nude.
And Trace is a real pretty one. He must be at least eighteen but he has one of these baby faces that make him look five years younger. And, since he’s a typical gay man who wants to look good, he’s got a great body. Not a huge bodybuilder by any means, but a delightful looking physical specimen. He’s been working out for over two years and it shows.
“Kiss my feet and ask me to forgive you for being an asshole.”
He instantly got on his knees and crouched down and started kissing my feet again. “Please Master. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Please forgive me Master.”
“That’s not what I said” I growled at him. “Clean out your fuckin ears and do what I told you.” There was silence for a moment except for the smacking kisses he was making on my feet. Then he figured it out.
“Please, Master. I’m a total asshole. Please forgive me for being an asshole. Please, Master, I’m sorry I was an asshole.”
“Pull my shorts down” I ordered him. He got up from his crouch and pulled my shorts down and off. When you have a returning twink and are not out cruising you don’t worry about what you wear, so I now was left with only a raggedy t-shirt and my white bikini. My prick wasn’t hard yet but was still pretty damn impressive with about seven fat inches trying to hide behind the tiny strip of cloth.
Grabbing his hair again, I pulled his head back and spit in his face, hitting him on the cheek. “I’m not forgiving you, you stupid shit, but we’re just taking a break. Got it?”
“Yes, Master. Yes. Thank you, Master. I’m really sorry, Master” he said as he was weeping softly.
Now back to my explanation of a ‘fantasy fuck’. A ‘fantasy fuck’ is when both players are playing their pre-scripted parts but we were well beyond that now. We’d thrown out the script. He knew I was going to be brutal but he didn’t know how much, but he also knew he deserved it and was obviously willing to accept it. I mean, think about it, he could get up and leave at any time and never come back, but there was no way he was going to do that. No way was he going to lose the opportunity to be one of my regular fucks. I don’t use safe words with my twinks because I don’t like bondage and almost never use it. If I can’t control a twink without tying him up, I don’t deserve to call myself a Master. But Trace liked being dominated by me and knocked around, so maybe to him this was the same game only just a little more intense. We both knew it was going to eventually end up in a very rough and probably painful fuck anyway.
“Go get the paddle” I ordered him. I don’t usually use a paddle unless it fits into the current fantasy and the twink seems like he really wants it, and I don’t actually know if I’d ever used it on Trace or not. But since he was very aware of where I keep it hanging in the closet evidently he had had a taste of it in the past. Crawling there and back on hands and knees, he kissed it, bowed his head and held it up to me.
“How many?” I asked as I took it from him.
“Please Master. Whatever… Whatever…” he said as he was still sniffling. Taking a big gulp he continued. “Whatever you… Whatever you think.” He stopped and coughed and took another big gulp. “Whatever you think I need, Master.”
“Is ten enough?”
“Yes, Master. Ten. Yes ten.” Reattaching the leash, I headed back into the living room with him scrambling along behind. Sitting down on the sofa I just looked at him and waited. He glanced up at my face to see what I might be expecting from him, and then crawled on my lap with his ass sticking up. He was afraid and he knew it was going to hurt, but I was his Master and he absolutely loved the fantasy we had together, so he wanted this. He wanted me to dominate him and hurt him, and I know that later, upon reflection, he was going to savor the memory of this event; the time when he gave himself up completely to his Master.
I wanted this punishment to hurt, really hurt, but I didn’t intend to injure him. I wanted it to hurt for days, but I didn’t want permanent damage, so I controlled my swing as I gave him the first swat.
“Yeeaaooh” he screamed as I slammed the paddle onto his ass. I think it was shock as much as hurt since I caught him unawares.
“Thank me” I ordered.
“Thank you, Master.” Then I slammed him again. He didn’t scream this time but couldn’t keep himself from grunting. “Thank you, Master” he whispered.
So he got ten healthy swats and his ass was bright red, and there was no doubt he was going to have blisters there, and he probably wouldn’t be setting down for the next few days.
“Put the paddle back” I ordered him, so he climbed off my lap, took the paddle and crawled into the bedroom. I followed him leisurely, pulled off the bikini and sat on the side of the bed with my only half hard seven inches dangling down between my legs.
“Get over here.” He crawled over in front of me and put his forehead to the floor. “Beg” I said. Now, all of my returning twinks were skilled at begging, because it was one of the main requirements of my muscle worship training program, so Trace knew exactly what I expected of him. I love to watch a pretty twinks face as he begs me to be allowed to touch me, or suck my cock, or kiss my ass, or something.
“Please, Master. Please, Master. I’m so sorry for being an asshole. Please let me worship your body. Please honor me by letting me worship your cock. Please allow me do whatever I can to give you pleasure, Master. Please, Master. I beg of you. Please let me worship you.”
Now that’s the way I train a twink. You hear a kid talk like that you know he’s well trained and knows exactly what I expect from him. “Do you deserve it” I ask.
“No, Master, of course not. But I would be honored if you’d let me worship you.”
“You’re right, you don’t deserve it, so no muscle worship tonight. But since your ass is hot I’ll fuck you. Now get up here and kiss my cock.”
He raised up and gave my dangling, mostly soft cock, a single kiss. “Thank you, Master. But… ahhh… Master? Ahhh…. please… ahhh… may I ask something?”
“What the fuck do you want?” I asked in annoyance.
“Please, Master. May I remove your shirt?” he asked and I had to laugh aloud. I mean, here I was kicking the shit out of him, and was about to give him a rough fuck that he’d never forget, and all he could think about was being able to admire and savor my incredible muscles. As I’ve said before, all my twinks were absolute muscle crazy and simply couldn’t get enough of my body. They felt privileged to just be able to look at me and would freak out completely when I allowed them to touch.
Since the t-shirt was old and raggedy I grabbed it at the collar and with a quick yank, ripped it open, and then I tore it down the front leaving my chest and stomach bare and the scraps of shirt dangling from my shoulders. Trace was looking up at me in total adoration.
“Get on my cock” I ordered him. With his hands tightly clasped behind his back, Trace leaned forward and swallowed my cock. Since it was mostly soft and only five or six inches, he took it all the way to the pubes and started lapping it with his tongue and sucking like a mad man. He knew he had something to prove and I could see that he was willing to strangle himself if necessary to make it up to me. Ain’t nothing wrong with having a slave one thousand percent focused on not only sucking your cock and giving you incredible enjoyment, but absolutely determined to give something above and beyond; providing an exquisitely delightful penance.
As he kept his lips jammed against my pubes and continued licking and sucking, I starting to get hard. Very hard, very quickly. I mean, pleasure points throughout my body came to life with feelings of exaltation. Why do you think I kept letting Trace come back? He was a one in a million cocksucker, and could do things with his mouth that I didn’t know were humanly possible.
Putting one hand behind his head, I pushed him even harder into my crotch, jamming his nose in tight. And I just held him there as my big wanger got bigger and longer and fatter. Trace still had a lot to make up for by being such a shit so I wasn’t going to make this particularly easy for him. As I held him there and my growing cock started forcing its way into his throat, I felt his head jerk so I knew he was beginning to choke. I simply pushed him in harder and his choking contortions started doing wonderful things to my cock. Suddenly his head jerked and he spewed saliva and spit out of his mouth but the feeling of that throat squeezing my cock was simply superb so I held on, just letting him go ahead and choke.
When he finally brought his hands out to my crotch, which was absolutely forbidden, I knew he was in trouble, so I finally let go and allowed him to pull his head back. He gasped and coughed and gasped some more and without any input from me he spoke.
“Thank you, Master. Thank you, Master. Thank you, Master” he gasped as he tried to get his breath. I couldn’t help but get a grin on my face as I watched him dive back in and force my big bludgeon back into his throat. He was truly determined to make it up to me for laughing and making me angry so it was no surprise that he pushed has face right back into my pubes again, jamming his nose in tight and forcing my monster well back into his throat once more. As well as licking and sucking he now started swallowing, which he knew from experience gave me lightning bolts of exquisite pleasure shooting all the way down to my toes.
“Oh yeah” I groaned as I couldn’t contain myself from the incredible feelings coming from my prick. As he pulled his head back to get a breath, I grabbed his head and rammed him back in and just held him there while my pleasure centers started firing on all cylinders. When he tried to pull back I let him go but immediately rammed him back in and as I held his head I jacked my crotch into his face a couple times trying to get maybe one centimeter more down into his throat. After he came up for air once more I grabbed his head with both hands and crammed his face into my crotch as hard as I could and forced my crotch forward to meet him, and even smacked him on the back of the head trying to get even deeper. And, oh fuck, what a fabulous feeling of strength and power to get such marvelous feelings coming from my prick while strangling this little slave boy who was groveling in front of me. Absolute nirvana.
But now I was getting hot. Really, really hot. It felt so fucking good that I almost decided to stay there with my cock buried deep in his hot wet hole, but I couldn’t because I still had plans to fuck him. Cocksucking genius or no, I wanted to fuck him and fuck him hard.
So, with significant amount of frustration since I knew I was missing something great, I pushed his head back, pulling my cock out of his throat and mouth. Then I pulled my feet up and lay on the bed on my back. “Up here, facing me slave boy” I said. Trace climbed up on top and sat on my abdominals. His face was bright red and he was still gasping for breath, and his chin and chest were covered with the saliva he’d spit up.
“Thank you, Master” he said breathlessly.
“You greased up?” I asked.
“As ordered, Master.”
“Get on it then.”
“Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.” He reached behind him and took hold of my fully hard nine inches, and raising his ass slightly, he aimed it towards his tight little crack. And then he eased himself down on it.
“Ohhhhh” he groaned as he forced himself down on my enormous shaft. I put my hands behind my head, just relaxing but also giving him some bulging biceps to admire while he slowly impelled my big cock into his ass.
“Ohhhhh shit” he groaned again as he seemed to reach bottom with his ass pressed against my crotch. “I’m there Master” he whimpered.
“Okay, slave boy. It’s all yours. Go to it.” Very slowly Trace raised his ass up a couple inches and then lowered himself back down. He did this several times very slowly, and then gradually began to rise slightly higher on each move: four inches, five inches, six inches. As he reached seven inches he lowered himself down and gasped for breath a few times.
“I’m ready, Master” he said.
“Okay, babe. Fuck me. Fuck me hard.” And now he started real movement, raising up almost to the end of my prick and then lowering himself, almost slamming his ass into my crotch. His eyes were closed and his head was thrown back and he was groaning constantly now as he kept the movement going. As his ass seemed to get more acclimated he gradually picked up speed so after a bit he was really ramming his ass against me.
I’d gotten really hot, almost to the point in cuming, in the blowjob, and now with his animated fuck on my cock I was getting near the point of no return. Not completely there yet, but getting too damn close, I raised up and put my hand on his face and pushed him over backwards allowing my prick to pop out of his ass. Getting up quickly onto my feet, I grabbed him and jerked him over to me at the edge of the bed and threw his legs up in the air. Then with one hard thrust, I rammed back into his tight little bung hole.
“Yeeeoooh, Master” he howled as I rammed into him hard and continued doing it over and over again. Then, putting his legs on my shoulders, I grabbed him by the arms and lifted him off the bed so he was riding on my cock. Then, raising him up bodily, I dropped him down on my cock several times, ramming my crotch up to meet him each time as hard as I could. He really started to yell so he must have been in pain, but I was beyond noticing because the feeling in my cock was stupendous and I was getting very close to my climax.
Taking three steps over to the wall I slammed him back against it, and holding him there, I rammed my fat nine incher up into his ass violently over and over again. Reaching up I slapped his face hard as I fucked. And then again and again and again. I was frantically ramming my massive boner into him as hard as I could as I was hitting him and he was howling, and suddenly I was howling too as I reached my climax. Forcing my cock up into him one more time, and giving him one final back hand to the face I started shooting. Oh Jesus. Having this kid up against the wall with just my blasting prick holding him there as I rocketed my gism into his ass was a show of strength to put any other muscle Master to shame.
Grabbing him by the hair, I gave him a violent jerk as I plowed into him two more times as my exploding ramrod was sending signals to every pleasure center of my body. Then, while still fireing, I grabbed his shoulders, stepped back to the bed and dropped him on it. My Pecker still had a shot or two to go as I slammed into Trace’s ass eight or ten more times actually moving the bed with each savage thrust and maybe shaking the whole building.
Finally, I just let myself fall down on top of him with my feet still on the floor. As I started to relax I heard he was moaning and crying softly. Hell, I knew I’d hurt him, but big fuckin deal. “Shut the fuck up” I ordered and he instantly became silent.
We were both puffing from exertion so I just lay there for ten minutes or so. As I raised up off of him I realized we were both drenched with sweat, and evidently Trace had cum while I was fucking him because he had cum on his chest so it was now on me as well. Instead of having a look of pleasure on his face however, he had a look of pain and shock and it looked like his cheeks were going to be black and blue and probably blistered by tomorrow. But what the hell, that was fine with me.
Grabbing him by the hair I pulled him off the bed and dumped him on his knees in front of me, and pushed his head down to my feet. Even as hurting as he was, Trace, as one of my well trained slave boys, knew what to do.
“Thank you, Master. Thank you, Master” he mumbled as he kissed my feet.
Hey man, that’s what it’s all about. Me kicking the shit out of a kid and almost tearing him a new asshole, and then having him thank me and kiss my feet. Pretty fabulous Hey?. There just ain’t nothing like it.
I considered having him lick his cum off my stomach, but I knew for him it would be more pleasure than punishment, so I grabbed my well used cum towel and wiped it off.
“Get your stuff and get the fuck out of here” I ordered him.
“Master. Please” he mumbled as he continued kissing my feet. “Please.”
“Do it” I shouted at him. Now he moved, going to the living room and getting dressed. I followed him in but didn’t say anything, and after glancing at my face, he didn’t dare say anything either. As he left I saw that he still had the slave collar on, but that was okay. He’d have something to remember me by.
So, that was the session I had with Trace the other night. I’m kinda sorry I told you this story because I had really intended to tell you of a typical session with one of my twinks. Yes, Trace was one of my regulars, but this session definitely wasn’t really typical since he almost ruined it by getting the giggles and I ended up being much more violent than I would have otherwise. But let me tell you, that was one fabulous fuck. Totally amazing and completely satisfying.
But I only came once which is never enough for me. So I got dressed and got ready to go out cruising for some hot young twink who wanted to be a worshiping slave to a dominant muscle Master.
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