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Rocket's slave Tomtom is still slobbering over my boots. "Take them off, and my socks. Then back off," I order him. As soon as he's finished I summon my boy over. "Time to come home, faggot. Show me how grateful you are for all the fussing we've done over you." How fucking beautifully sarcastic of me! The poor slave is beyond exhausted, I can see that. It's obvious from the way it's poking wearily at my toes that it's about to expire. If we were alone I'd just put it to bed somewhere and let it sleep. But I'm not about to baby the slave in front of Rocket and his two slaves that I'm sure have been through a hell of a lot more stuff than Murph. Like I always say, there's always more to learn.
Rocket had sandwiches made for lunch and offered me a beer as well. I'd drink it if I could make pup drive me home, but I won't trust it behind the wheel of my car considering how exhausted it is. Nah. I"ll probably just let it sleep in the back seat while I drive us home myself. The short answer is that I decided not to drink any alcohol.
Rocket was well aware of how exhausted pup is. "I hope you're gonna spoil the shit out of this boy for a few days after the ordeal we just put it through." He did nothing to extend our conversation any longer after we'd eaten. We can chat any time.
When I got up to leave, he ordered his slaves to make sure pup got out to the car okay. I told them to just let it in the back seat. It was sound asleep before I even got back on the highway and I had to practically carry it into the house when I got home. I checked its body out before I left it to sleep in one of my spare rooms. Everything looks okay to me. Nothing needing any first aid or anything like that. Rocket did bandage something on its shoulder and I'm grateful for that.
Pup slept almost eleven hours and then I personally gave it a nice warm bubble-bath and babied the fuck out of it. Hadn't done that in a long time. I figured it was a suitable reward to the slave for all it had been through since we first left for the Shaft in what feels like weeks ago even though it was only a couple days. Some days we just all live more intensely, whether we're Doms or subs, Masters or slave, so much more than ordinary vanilla hetero folk. They must get very bored with life.
I learned a lot over the years about what it takes to be a good Dom, sometimes from superb Masters like Rocket, other times from the bad example set by so many who get the wrong idea from the porn they watch. Subs need to be cherished, not annihilated. Doms have a tremendous responsibility to help subs thrive—as subs, not as ordinary twinks. A Dom who just walks away from a sub after he's gotten all he wants out of it is a selfish brute, not anything more than a bully. A true Dom understands the responsibility his role entails. A true Dom must be empathic, protective. A true Dom has the right to take total possession of a sub only if he's willing to tend to the sub's mind as well as its body.
I'd had enough of that in high school; that's why I decided to take Murphy under my wing after he got pushed out the door naked on a cold day by Nuts and his sub-human cronies. And you know what happened after that—at least some of it.
Me, I took a lesson from one of the bartenders at a place I used to hang out at. Danny was his name. Word had gotten around about some new twink that Danny had taken a liking to, and how he did what he could to make sure the twink didn't get involved with any of the Neanderthals who hung around BDSM bars looking for a kid to beat the shit out of then leave lying on the ground after they fucked it over. There was far too much of that going around. I swear that if I was ever in a position to create BDSM videos, I'd have to find a way to make aftercare look sexy.
Unfortunately, a lot of us get off on seeing other guys get virtually vandalized. We fall prey to the illusion that the scenes we view are actual encounters between hot Doms and pretty subs who deserve to be despised simply because they are the true faggots, the ones in constant search of cocks and spit and slaps and bondage and all the stuff featured in the films. We suspend our disbelief. We know damn well (or should know) that the guys in the scenes are actors. God only knows where they find dudes willing to take so much pain and brutality. I hope they're very well paid because I doubt they can "star" in more than one scene every few weeks. They must need a lot of time to recover and once again summon up the guts to go back for more.
It always appears that the hottest scenes don't come an end because the sub is crying or sobbing. I've often wondered what actually happened in the porn studios after the actor's been broken that way. Is there someone on staff whose job it is to take care of the victim once the cameras have stopped rolling? There must be. I can't imagine that any "model," no matter how masochistic, would be left to tend to itself unaided after the cries and screams and tears have been filmed and the scenery broken down.
I can't imagine that any model no matter how much he needs the money, would be able to keep starring in such scenes if there was no one for him to go to for comfort while the others packed up shop and went home. I wonder what happens to those sub models after the scenes are finished. Do the other dudes there look after them, maybe even help them heal? Or do they just painfully make their way home, their bodies marked and welted but their pockets full of cash? Maybe I'll find out some day.
So anyway, aftercare: there's an art to it. Back in high school I didn't have the vocabulary to label what was going on between me and Murph so I just thought we were doing what just seemed the way two friends take care of each other, look out for each other. Our first experimentations together, Murph always the sub, me always the seducing mentor, were a hell of lot of fun for the both of us all the time. We were enjoying a very special friendship and everything we did back then was done in that context. Friends helping friends discover what it was that made them tick.
My "tick" was the high I got from seeing how much power I had over my buddy, how I could get him to try things he didn't think of before, how I could learn about being a Dom as much as I was also learning how to treat a sub. Maybe that was the key: I was so fond of Murph. My heart went out to him. AND at the same time, I got off on using him, on the way I was teaching him how to give pleasure to the men he would serve. As far as that was concerned, there was never a single doubt that Murph would be spending a lot of his time servicing men who enjoyed one-sided submission from the boys they put their eyes on.
I'll never forget the first time he was pounding on my door—Murph, that is—at 3 in the morning. Fortunately, my parents' rooms were on the other side of the house so he didn't wake them up. Only me. And the truth is that I was already awake from having some weird dream. In fact, I wasn't surprised when Murph showed up. He was in the dream as well and he was in some kind of trouble. When I opened the door he practically fell into my arms crying and hanging on for dear life. He had gotten hastily dressed. His clothes were falling off him and he was barefoot. Fortunately it was a warm evening, sometime during that summer after graduation.
I didn't know what to make of it, so I just let him do whatever he needed until he calmed down enough to let me know what the fuck was going on. I took him inside and tried to help him sit down on the sofa in my room he fought me off. "Too sore," he said. "Much too sore."
"So do what you want. Who got you sore, baby?"
"Sir. Don't know his real name. Hot as fuck. Convinced me to find out how much I could take."
"How much of what? Getting beat up?"
"Well yeah, but I fucking agreed to it. Wanted to impress this dude for some reason."
"So what happened?"
"He got me naked and toyed with me all over, had me writhing and giggling at times. Tickling but also some light hitting. Then my ass. Talked a lot. Got me to agree. Had a thick strap and a hairbrush. Started with his hands, constantly talking hot to me. Made me feel like the lowest faggot in the world, made me feel like I really needed to be punished. Made me even beg him to make it mean something."
"Dammit, Dave, I fucking broke. Broke through beyond where I ever though I could go. When I finally called RED, he just left me there sore and sobbing on the ground. Just like that. Walked away and told to get dressed and leave as soon as I could. That was the end of it. There I was, sobbing, hurting so much from that fucking hairbrush all over, and that fuck just left me lying there, went into his bedroom and shut the door. Fuck I needed a hug so damn much! I needed to hear the words `good boy' but I got nothing."
I've always liked hugging Murph, being affectionate with him the way we started doing back when we were just learning our way about sex. He makes this move which drives me crazy, a little movement of his head curling in a little bit. It's so fucking adorable its what made me fall in love with him. Want to protect him. Wanted to find out how he'd develop as this really submissive queer boy seeking men to take control of him.
So anyway, this was the night I learned how to pamper my little buddy. He drew it from me, the caring. It was so good, so nice, so sweet, so affectionate and the way he clung to me when I was finally able to get him to go to sleep made my heart to flip-flops.
Maybe it was my fault Murph turned out to be such a baby boy at times, because of the I treated him when he would come to me feeling vulnerable. Sure, as we entered the world of so-called adults, I never heard anyone talk about this kind of stuff. They talked about toys and techniques and how they liked to treat subs and use them like the faggots they are. Never heard a guy talk about hugging. But Murph got plenty of it. Every single fucking time he came crawling to me after going through some wild hot time with another tough guy who wouldn't lay a hand on his sore body after he shot his load but just tried to hurry it up and leave.
Don't forget, this was almost 14 years ago and the BDSM scene was still kind of boorish, Doms using subs, neither of them looking for anything but a hot time, but subs often feeling like something had been robbed from them during the encounter, that somehow their own sense of self-worth had plummeted into the sleaze.
As long as I was around, Murph never had to be alone at a time like that. Oh sure, there were a couple of misses, times when I was away at school and all I could do for him was talk him down when he called me. The first time my freshman roommate overheard me talking to Murph the way I was, he concluded that I was in love with him and we were having a long-distance relationship. When I look back now I realize my roommate was right. I was in love with him. We did have a long distance relationship. But we were always open; we both had complete freedom. We deliberately refused to bond completely. For some reason we always felt that it would ruin what we had going.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, the first time Gus—the roommate—found out I was hooking with some guy I met on campus, he was pissed off at me for being unfaithful to Murph back at home. Finally I had to set him straight. We had an open relationship. Gus always thought it was weird, but nonetheless finally stopped judging me for playing around the way I was.
Gus is married now and I'm godfather to his first-born son even though the priest who baptized little Henry told him to make sure he picked godparents "who are living good Christian lives." Makes sense, I guess, but Gus had a different set of priorities. He's very open-minded after being my roommate all through college. "A good Dom like you is every bit as caring and generous as anyone no matter what their religion."
So Gus' and his wife decided to have the boy baptized and me the Godfather I'm glad because I get to spoil the heck out of the little boy. I guess that's what I'm best at: spoiling boys whether they be toddlers or just overgrown fag slaveboys who also spend a lot of time crawling on the ground and crying real tears from time to time. Now don't get the wrong idea. There's absolutely nothing sexy about the tears of toddlers. Those are heartbreaking and I always do anything I can to make those tears stop flowing. But the tears of slaveboys pretending to be or feeling like toddlers? Exquisite!
But hey, I'm no saint! I make Murph cry. It turns me on. I still punish him from time to time when I think he needs it. I send him to men I know to serve them. I am a control freak, so he is very well controlled. So even though I set a new bar for aftercare, even when I'm not the one who causes the "before," I'm well aware of Murph's masochistic needs and how much he needs someone else in charge of most things. So I give him that. I don't need him to suck me off or anything like that. I get plenty of it from others. And I always make damn sure that when a sub wants to stop or take a break, that it finds out how I feel all subs should be rewarded---especially after they've been punished. Some say I'm weird like that. Some admire it. That's just the way things are, isn't it?
I worked from home for most of the week after the Shaft. Like I said, "pup" slept off all that exhaustion but still lay low at my place. It took more than one long night's sleep to help get things back in the proper balance. He spent most of his time just hanging out and playing with his phone. He made comfort food all week for us, all stuff we both like a lot, noodle dishes and a stew, pancakes and these little apple pastries he makes that I love so much. But even then, he didn't eat much and went to take another nap while I cleaned up instead of the slaveboy. It didn't matter to me. I'm glad I've become the type of person he could come to and just be the way he was with no judgment or impatience on my part. No expectations on my part. I just wanted to be the pup's safe space.
THAT'S ALL FOR NOW
I love it when readers write to me. subkodak25@gmail.com Make sure you put "Dave" in the subject so I know which story you're writing me about.
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