Chapter 45 – Adventures of Fag Dad
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Disclaimer: This story contains explicit descriptions of adult men. These men engage in sexual activity with other adult men. The intent of this story is entertainment for adult male readers. All characters depicted having sex are over 18 years. You also must be over 18 to read about them. Thank you.
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Please check out my other Nifty.org stories:
Born http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/born/ Dad Likes to Watch http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/dad-likes-to-watch Downward Spiral of Jim http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/downward-spiral-of-jim Growing Up Naked http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/growing-up-naked/ Naked Whore http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/naked-whore Put Out to Pasture http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/put-out-to-pasture Santa's Slave Training http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/santas-slave-training Special Product Design http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/special-product-design The Trunk http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-trunk Tommy the Catcher http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/tommy-the-catcher
Chapter 45
"Hey, baby. Did you sleep well?" Sinclair rubbed his cock against his slave's ass. His slave pulled his ass cheeks apart to let his Master's cock fill the hole with fresh semen.
"Okay. Get up Joe. We got to get the boys to school." Sinclair informed Joe.
"I thought we had a few days." Joe responded.
"No. They need to go now. No long goodbyes; harder for everyone including me. We will see them on break. Get your ass in gear and speaking of your ass; hold my cum in there as long as possible." Sinclair ordered.
Sam and David were not shocked by their father's decision to get them to school immediately. In fact, they were relieved because they sensed neither dad was handling this well. At the last minute, Sinclair ordered an Uber making everyone say goodbye on the curb; not at the school. He said he wanted the school to be their territory. "We, as fathers, have no business invading your space. We both love you."
"Let's go, slave." Sinclair said abruptly after a wonderful morning café breakfast.
Sinclair rarely used this term in reference to his partner. Joe knew he meant business. Sinclair was in a mood. Joe didn't know what kind of mood. He knew he was going to be part of the release though.
They ended up at a play space Sinclair rented. It was in a seedy part of town. "Take your clothes off." Joe didn't argue even though they were in the Uber.
The driver began to object. Sinclair looked at him and the driver backed off.
Sinclair opened the door to the play space taking Joe by the scruff of his neck and pushing him in the door.
The moment the door shut, Sinclair pushed Joe up against a wall kissing him deep, hard and aggressive.
Within minutes, Joe felt his master's hands wrap around Joe's throat. Sinclair started throttling his slave who was grasping for air and being kissed deep and hard. Joe came close to fainting several times.
Sinclair pushed Joe onto the floor throwing the ball. "Fetch. Fucker."
Joe knew what to do. He was scared. This was a side of Sinclair he never experienced. Sinclair was always more calm and deliberate.
"Smell my crotch, asshole."
Sinclair never called Joe an asshole. Asshole was his pet name for Paul. Thus, Joe knew he was being degraded.
"Come on, fucker. Smell it. You want it, don't you asshole. You want me. You fucking want me. You want my cock. You want my body. You are willing to do anything for me. Aren't you, you little mother fucker.
"Fetch the fucking ball, asshole. Fucking cunt. Come on. You are pathetic. You can do better. Come on."
Joe was doing the best he could; yet, he was not pleasing his master. This was not fun. Joe was not enjoying himself. He quickly deduced he had to get slave mind going fast.
The beauty of his relationship with Sinclair; the calmness of the last while; lulled Joe into a state of forgetting his place. He was a slave. He was Sinclair's slave. He would do anything for Sinclair. Joe reminded himself at the end of the day, regardless of love, partnership, a dance of equality in their relationship, Joe was Sinclair's slave and Sinclair could do whatever he wanted to Joe. And, Joe was okay with having Sinclair do anything to him.
The moment Joe got himself into this headspace, Sinclair slowed down.
"Yeah, boy. There you are. You're back. You're where you are supposed to be. You are mine. Don't you ever forget. I see your mind is where it needs to be; slave mind. Now, come on. Let's have some fun." Sinclair smiled.
This facility had a bench with increasing sizes of butt plugs. Sinclair led Joe to the first. With Joe seated properly on the small plug, Sinclair injected Joe's penis with Tri-Mix proceeding to tie the cock and balls up so by the time Joe was hard the slave's cock would be a deep, hurtful purple.
"Next."
Joe moved forward onto the next one. These first few were easy because of Joe was a professional at taking cock. However, the plugs got wider and wider. Joe screamed starting second to the last. Sinclair grabbed the slave's chin forcing Joe to look deep into his master's eyes.
"Come on, baby. You can do it. Look into me. You know who you are. You know what you're capable of. You know who I am. You know what I am capable of."
Joe relaxed. Seeing his master's soul allowed him to take the final plug with ease.
With Joe solidly planted on the butt plug, Sinclair started moving the strands of a cat-o-nine-tails over the slave's back and chest.
"You like the feel of this, don't you fucker?"
"Yes, Sir. Would you please whip me, Sir?"
Sinclair unleased on his slave a stroke with such force Joe held his ground on the butt plug for dear life.
"Shut, the fuck up, cunt. You don't get to do behave like some amateur sub whose only goal is its own pleasure and not the master's. You are better than this.
"Why, the fuck, would you say something like: `Would you please whip me, Sir?' What a bunch of crap. Come on, fucker. Show me what you're made of. I want my slave back."
Joe knew he made a mistake the moment he said it. Lines like that are for amateurs. Lines like `would you whip me?' are for fantasy players. Joe was no fantasy player. He was the best of slaves and he was bound and determined his love and master were going to get the best performance possible.
Sinclair saw in his partner's eyes he was back. And, Sinclair let loose.
"Push out your chest." Sinclair took the cat-o-nine-tails whacking it across Joe's chest. Joe held still with the butt plug deep in his hole. Sinclair forced Joe to set erect as he whipped from both sides. Joe took it and took it and took it as a true professional would.
When he was done, Sinclair kissed Joe again, deep, long, hard, aggressive, and with a feeling of reassurance from his master, Joe was doing a good job.
Sinclair lifted Joe off the largest plug. "Come with me." He took Joe over to St. Andrew's cross mounting Joe for both of theirs second favorite abuse; the whip.
"Count off."
"One."
"Two."
"Three."
"Four."
"Five."
Pause.
At 25, Sinclair walked over to Joe. "Where you at, baby? Where's your will? Are you greater than your tolerance level? Do you have control over your body? Huh? Answer me."
"Yes, Sir."
"Twenty-six."
"Twenty-seven.
More.
"Thirty-seven."
More.
"Fifty."
Joe's back was a bloody, wounded mess. He ass cheeks not much better. Joe was so happy. He got reminded by his master who he is.
Sinclair started softly kissing the back of Joe's neck as he put alcohol on all the wounds. "That's my boy. That's my Joe. That's my slave. It's good to have you back, baby." Sinclair whispered.
Taking Joe off the cross, he led him over to rubber vacuum table. Joe had never experienced this before. He was scared, as well as exhausted.
"Lie down."
Joe did and Sinclair pulled a rubber sheet over Joe's body all the way over his head. Sinclair placed the single face hole over Joe's mouth. He attached an air hose into Joe's mouth. Next, he positioned Joe's cock through the only other hole. The slave's cock was still rock hard and purple.
Once these two holes where filled properly, Sinclair turned on the vacuum. Within a minute, the outline of Joe's magnificent, muscle body was visible.
Sinclair climbed on top of the table and started to make love to the rubber. Joe could feel Sinclair's movements; yet, he could see nothing. Sinclair would touch Joe's cock for a bit. Then, he would back off.
Joe's couldn't writhe while his cock was being played with because he was form-fitted to the table. Joe had no idea how long this went on. Sinclair did.
Sinclair manipulated Joe's cock over and over again. With pushing his slave to the outer limits of control, Sinclair allowed the cock to spurt a massive cum load.
Then, Sinclair walked away saying nothing.
Joe expected him any minute to be released. It didn't happen. It didn't happen for hours. Joe's mind was crazy. He worked hard to stay calm. This was the ultimate test so far in their relationship as master and slave. Joe was always expected to play all sides of the fence. This was a new side.
Now, Sinclair was right next to him the whole time. Joe didn't know that. Sinclair kept an eye on him wanting to make sure he continued to hear breathing.
After about 2 ½ hours, Joe felt the rubber being lifted off his body. His cock was semi-hard from the Tri-Mix. Sinclair released the breathing tube from Joe's mouth replacing it with his lips. "I love you."
Joe started to cry. He cried and cried and cried. Sinclair kissed him a little more then sat down again to allow the love of his life to process. Sinclair was patient. Joe cried for over an hour non-stop. Sinclair was not going to touch his slave as the energy of the tears would dissipate.
Joe slowed the crying to a whimper. "Let me help you, baby. Let's go over to the bed." Sinclair helped a limping and exhausted slave to a soft, luxurious bed. Sinclair, then, proceeded to take his clothes off to lie with his slave. They both fell asleep.
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