Naked Scott

I positioned Scott under the overhead light in my living room, then backed up and admired him like a sculpture.

His fit, oily body shone golden. You could really see how much all those trips to the gym were paying off.

The leather collar was tight around his neck, his hands bound to it with cuffs so their movement was limited. He stood stiffly, unable to lower his head.

His eyes were covered, which drew attention to his lovely pink mouth, slightly ajar as he breathed quietly.

Then of course the beautiful, black butt plug violated deeply between the perfect globes of his ass.

The rings were tight around his scrotum and the base of his hardon. I could practically see his cock throbbing with the beat of his heart, like a ticking clock.

He stood there waiting in silence for my next move, his breaths occasionally punctuated by a moan.

It was time for both of us to see how far I could push him.

"Scott, there is one thing I forgot to mention," he turned his head toward the sound of my voice and swallowed hard.

"My present for you today isn't just for plugging your hole and restraining your cock and balls. It also happens to be a vibrator."

I let this information sink in for a moment. When he finally understood, he gasped. "W-what?" Scott could scarcely believe this. He was already at full sexual arousal and he was hoping to God I was joking.

"Yes, Scott, I have the fancy little remote for it right here. It has three different settings: low, medium, and high." Scott's chest was beginning to heave. His naked body was visibly trembling. I acted as if I didn't notice.

"I suppose we should start with low first and work our way up. That would be preferable, wouldn't you say?"

I withdrew the shiny, little black rectangle from the pouch of my hoodie. It was battery operated and I had tested it earlier.

The device Scott was wearing had, not one, but two vibrators embedded in it. One at the base of the buttplug and the other just below the cock and ball rings where it was sure to have the most effect.

Scott was turning pale. He shook his head back and forth like a frightened horse and took a step back. "N-no, please, sir- mmf-master, it's too much, I can't..."

I placed a strong, steadying hand on his shoulder. "Easy, boy," I said calmly but sternly, "I want you to take a big, deep breath, just like on the phone yesterday."

The edges of his mouth went down in a grimace. He was clearly starting to panic. He wanted to protest so badly, but seemed to understand it was futile.

I instructed him to breathe in and out three times. He did as he was told and relaxed a bit.

"Just stand there, don't move, enjoy what is happening to your body, Scott," I said dismissively.

I pressed the first button for the lowest setting. The sound and movement was too subtle to notice, but Scott's reaction told me it was working.

His mouth formed an "o" and he thrust his hips, moving slowly forward and back, almost mechanical.

"Oh God," he moaned, he looked overwhelmed and horrified. "Oh my God, I can't take it."

I watched quietly as Scott struggled with himself. His cock grew, the sensation consumed him. He started to bend his knees and do a kind of funny dance.

He wiggled his naked, oily buns from left to right, trying to clench them against the plug deep inside him.

He thrust his engorged phallus into the air. He opened and closed his fists and tugged at his restraints, wanting to free his hands and free his bound cock. The bonds held.

He did these movements seemingly all at once. His body, assaulted by the vibrations against his cock and hole, simply didn't know how to react.

I watched him, fascinated. I myself sported a raging hardon and couldn't help but reach down and squeeze. He was like a puppet completely under the control of the overwhelming sexual stimulation I was subjecting him to.

I wasn't about to permit this silly little show to go on for long, though. Scott could do better.

I went to the window with the drawn blinds and unhooked the long, thin plastic rod.

Not all instruments of punishment had to be specially bought. I had plenty of effective ones laying around my apartment already.

The rod served as a fine substitute for a cane. I had used it on Scott's ass several times over the last few months when he was bad. It was harsh and bit into his flesh, leaving vicious red lines across his butt.

I spanked Scott with my hands and other tools for his enjoyment, because I knew he liked it. But the rod was for punishment. It didn't make him hard the way the spatula did.

I swung my weapon of choice through the air a few times. Scott gasped when he heard the sound. He knew I meant business and straightened up immediately.

I went to him and pressed the rod across the swell of his bulbous cheeks, directly on top of the vibrating buttplug. Scott's lip quivered.

He tried desperately to clench his buns together, groaning uncomfortably each time he did so. His sensitive hole was no match for the hard, slick buttplug opening it wide.

I loved the way the vibrations made his ass quiver as it quietly violated him.

"Please, master," he heaved several heavy breaths before he was able to continue. "Please, don't whip me (gulp) I'll be...I'll be a good boy and stand still-OOF...please."

"I hope so, Scott," I said coldly. I tapped the rod against his helpless, protruding, round buns, making him whimper through his moans. "What happens if you disobey? Tell me what I told you before."

Voice unsteady, he recited what I had told him in my email message earlier that week. "If I'm a bad boy...and don't obey my master (gulp)...my naked-UMF...my naked, round, slave boy buns will be whipped ten times with the rod."

"Or why not more, Scott? Why not fifty times?"

"Please, master," he was visibly shaking and not just from the vibrator, I knew he was on the verge of tears. "Please don't, I want to be a good boy. It's just so hard, I just want to cum so badly."

Even as he pleaded his hips were thrusting backward and forward. It was as if an electrical current were coursing through his body, giving it a mind of its own.

I placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. It was important to understand when Scott needed reassurance as much as when he needed punishment.

"I know it's hard, Scott," I whispered in his ear, "But you are doing a good job...As I said before, it gives me pleasure. And you want to give me pleasure, don't you, Scott?"

"Yes, master," he heaved. I saw the first tear slide down from under the blindfold, as much from his frustration at being unable to cum as from his fear of being whipped. "Yes...I want to give you pleasure, sir."

"Now Scott, clench your jaw in place. Keep your buns relaxed as best you can to give your hole a rest. You will stand still and not move. You know the punishment if you do."

"Yes, sir," Scott said through tight lips.

"Now then, I have some things I need to do."

Scott looked confused. "Th- things to do, master?"

I didn't really have anything to do, of course. As if I could focus on anything else while my naked, bound, human sex toy was standing right there in the living room, his body at my command.

I myself could barely stand the sexual tension and wanted desperately to cum right then and there. But I restrained myself, knowing the orgasm would be all the better if I held out.

So I did housework. Things I'd normally leave for Scott to do the next day while I watched him. But I wanted him to feel I was ignoring him. That he was not a high priority at the moment.

All he could think about was his aching cock and his need to cum. I wanted to get it into his head that it was not going to happen anytime soon.

He'd gotten a taste of this during the long, slow, maddening jerk-offs I liked to give him from time to time. But this, of course, was a whole different ball game.

I did the dishes and cleaned the counters in the kitchen, listening to him moan and complain all the while. I did not think he could help it at this point, but he was playing up the forlorn tone, trying to win my sympathy.

I went into the living room and polished the TV and the surfaces of my bookshelves. I had the spatula in my pouch.

Everytime I passed by Scott, I gave his buns a good, hard swat with it. "OOF!" He danced forward, thrusting his cock upward into the air like a trumpeting elephant.

As much as he begged me not to punish him, as much as he feared the pain, deep down he was addicted to the high of it.

His orgasms were all the more explosive after I made his ass good and hot. Why else would he put up with everything I did to him?

"RRF," he nearly bellowed after I smacked his buns a fourth time with the blunt, metal instrument.

"Please, master," he begged, gasping for breath. "Please I'll do anything, I can't stand it."

I turned to him. "You'll do anything, Scott?"

"Yes," he perked up, "Yes, yes, sir, anything! MMPH!"

I plugged up his mouth with another throat-raping kiss. He pressed himself to me, stabbing his hardon into my gut, trying to make himself cum. He probably would have if it were not for the ring around his balls, forbidding them to release his juice into his shaft.

The ecstasy of corporeal contact with my naked slave gave me such a sexual shock it caught me off guard. I held power over Scott, but what surprised me was the sheer strength he possessed in his heightened arousal. We were both so horny it was almost like being flung onto a higher plain of pleasure I didn't know existed.

Though I was tonguing Scott deeply, it was actually him who was holding onto me, pressing into me savagely with his lips locked around mine.

I staggered backward as though hit by electricity. "Wow," I said under my breath.

I clasped the arm of the couch. It took me a minute to regain composure. "I have something for you, Scott," I said, trying to control my voice. I was still shaken by the energy he had just hit me with. "I have something to take your mind off it."

I went to the kitchen and got a packet of wooden clothespins from one of the drawers. I came back and stood before Scott. I pressed my thumbs into his nipples to get them nice and erect.

With his nest of chest hair shaved away, his nipples looked larger, pinker. They had no protection at all from me now. I clasped a big, heavy clothespin onto one, then the other.

Scott opened his mouth wide in a silent expression of pain. "Ah...OWE," he whined.

Believe it or not, it was actually Scott himself who brought up an interest in clothespins during one of our IM sessions.

He said he'd always been interested in what it would be like to have them hooked to his nipples and possibly his balls.

I did my best to incorporate Scott's interests into what we did, though often without warning.

I knew it took a lot for him to admit to something like that. He was not the type to talk about his sexual interests so freely (before he met me, anyway).

But if he told me he wanted to experiment with some particular form of pain, I was happy to provide it.

I lined a second clothespin onto each nipple, watching them bite into the sensitive pink flesh.

Scott hissed through his teeth, "Ah, easy, easy!"

"Your suggestion, Scott," I was happy to remind him. I hooked another one onto his deep, oval-shaped belly button.

I reserved one last clothespin for the loose skin at the bottom of his scrotum.

"No, no, please," he begged when he realized I was going to put one there. "No, please not there, AHH!" He bared his teeth in pain. He wiggled and did a kind of jig as though his balls had caught fire. I had to restrain him so he didn't back up and knock his head against the wall.

Whatever curiosity he'd had about this kind of torment before, there was no indication of it now. Tough shit.

I, on the other hand, decided I liked the clothespins. They looked fantastic decorating the blank canvas of his peach-colored skin. His pink nipples were already swelling red from their pinch. I was beginning to regret I hadn't bought more of them.

I wanted Scott's body to achieve ever higher levels of arousal through pain. More than he believed he could endure. If he had not been at complete arousal before, he would be now.

As a final coup de grace, I drew out the little remote control again and set his vibrators to medium.

"Just focus on the clothespins, Scott. Think about them pinching into your nipples, your ball sack, your belly button," I said, sitting myself down comfortably on the sofa, "It will make the tension on your cock and your hole easier to bear."

I got my TV remote and turned it on.

I flipped through channels, pretending to take no interest in Scott.

He appeared to buy into it. He meandered gradually closer to me as if I wouldn't notice. His mouth open as he heaved and moaned like a wounded animal.

At this point, his erection was taking on a life of its own: Quivering with the medium-level vibrations and flexed completely taut. He was so aroused I believed he was unable to relax the muscles in his cock now.

He was looking more and more like a living statue of Priapus: the Greek fertility god with the huge and eternally erect phallus.

Scott's cock stood out like a big piece of wood on his body. A separate entity that had attached itself to him, plaguing him and sucking all his energy and life force into itself.

I continued to flip through channels, stopping intentionally at commercials or TV shows with women's voices. Scott could not see, of course, but by now their feminine tones in and of themselves were agony to his cock.

"Hey Scott, looks like this reporter's got some really nice, big tits...or at least from what I can tell through the suit she's wearing. Like two big juicy melons. Didn't you say you were a tit man, Scott?"

"YEEESSS," he heaved, almost bellowing like a ghost. He was thrusting his dick into the air as if pulled by an invisible wire, wanting to push it into something, anything that he could fuck for release.

"Yeah, she's a good one, Scott," I continued savagely, "You're dick is getting huge, I bet you'd give anything to plow her right now, wouldn't you?"

"OH GAWWWD," Scott cried in a you-have-no-idea tone. I couldn't help but chuckle at the desperation in his voice, like a man in the desert dying for a drop of water.

"I would plow her so hard. So, so damn hard, sir, you wouldn't believe it!" His mouth screwed up with bliss at the very thought of it. "I would screw her over and over again all night `till she couldn't even walk." He had to suck in a half cup of saliva that suddenly spilled out of his mouth.

"I'd like to see that, Scott," I said smirking, "I'd truly love to watch you fuck her. Could she keep the suit on while you were completely naked like you are now? Would you be her naked slave boy to use and abuse the way I do?"

Words were failing Scott, he could do little more than moan lewdly and thrust his tool. He appeared drunk and light-headed, not surprising based on where most of the blood in his body was going.

I continued to flip through channels. He reacted as if in pain to any woman who spoke.

When I withdrew the little remote again and pressed "high," it was too much for him. "Oops," I said wickedly, "Thought that was the TV remote, sorry."

"Ahhhwww," Scott cried to the ceiling. If there had been neighbors living above me, they surely would have thought I was watching a really loud porno. Scott at last went down on his knees. "Oh fuck me, oh fuck. FUCK!"

Then he gasped, turning his head fearfully in my direction. His face went red and his mouth dropped open.

I fell silent, then turned off the TV. I pressed the "low" mode on his vibrator to take some of the pressure off his cock. "Scott," I said quietly, dangerously.

This was another rule I had laid down weeks before. Scott was forbidden from using any kind of profanity when serving as my sex slave. I had explained to Scott that I was allowed to use it and so were other people, but a mere slave boy like him had no business with words like that.

I allowed him only to say "buns" or "cheeks" rather than "ass" and "hole" rather than "asshole." Having to speak this way was all the more demeaning to him.

I still permitted words like "cock" and "screw," but "fuck" was simply out of the question. Breaking any of the cardinal rules I put in place was grounds for punishment.

"P-please, master," he stammered, half choking on his words in his tight collar, "Please, I'm sorry (gulp). It was just driving me crazy, it...it just slipped out."

"And that makes it okay for a naked slave boy like you, with a mouth and an ass designed to be fucked by a man, to talk like that, does it, Scott?"

Scott gave an audible gulp, knowing he was in trouble. "Please master (gulp) please I didn't mean it. Please don't whip my buns, sir."

"What happens to bad boys who use bad language, Scott?"

Scott whimpered helplessly, but even through this he had never stopped thrusting his hips forward, trying to fuck the air. Trying to fuck anything at all with the all-consuming entity his hardon had become.

I got up and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Stay, boy. Don't you dare move. I'll be right back." He tried to protest again, but the die was cast. His buns wiggled desperately, for they knew what was coming to them. He groaned as his hole spasmed uncontrollably around the buttplug.

I went into the bathroom and got two bars of soap in packets from the drawer. They weren't full-size, but similar to the ones they put in the bathrooms at cheap motels. Bite-sized, you might say.

I took them to the living room along with two big towels.

I pulled Scott's collar. "Up, boy. On your feet." I refused to even use his name now. He didn't deserve it. Scott scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could.

"What happens to bad boys who use foul language?" I barked in Scott's face.

Scott cowered, clearly deciding it was better not to argue. "Bad boys...get their mouths washed out with soap, sir..."

"And?"

He swallowed hard. "And...and their naked slave buns get ten lashes with the rod, sir."

"That's right, now open wide."

"Master (gulp)," he tried one last time, "Please..."

"Open, boy!" I demanded.

I knew he wasn't looking forward to the taste of soap in his mouth. I made him suck on it the last time he used inappropriate language. I used only one bar then, but the word had not been as strong.

I opened up the two packets of soap and pushed one into one side of his mouth, wedging it between his teeth and his inner cheek. It was a perfect fit.

"URMF," he said as I pushed in the other." I liked the way he looked with his cheeks stuffed full. He was already grimacing at the bitter, unpleasant taste.

"How is it?" I asked.

"Bad, sir," he replied shamefully, though with his mouth full it came out as "baff, thur."

I squeezed his lips between my fingers, giving him fish lips.

"Are you allowed to use naughty words under any circumstances, no matter how badly you want to cum?"

The muscles in his mouth struggled to work beneath my grip. "No, sir (naw, ffur)."

I shook my head, "And yet you just keep doing it, boy." I gave him a hard swat with my hand across both buns. I felt his buttplug go in a quarter of an inch further upon impact. "RRMPH," he retched, spitting out soap bubbles.

His body seemed hardly to know how to react anymore. He was experiencing such a wicked combination of sensations: The collar, the restraints, the blindfold. The vibrating buttplug and cockring. The clothespins biting into his nipples, navel, and scrotum and now his mouth, full of bad tasting soap.

I was taking him further down the rabbit hole of BDSM with each new session. For a moment I wished I could put myself into his shoes, for I was genuinely curious as to what he must be feeling right then in such a barrage of physical sensations.

I decided I liked being the dom, though, and grateful Scott was in that position and not me.

"A preview of what is to come. Stand and wait, boy."

I went and draped the two towels over the arm of my sofa. Then I stacked the two cushions, one on top of the other.

I pulled Scott along by his nametag (along with more clothespins, I felt I should really invest in a leash next so I could drag him around more easily. Perhaps on all fours).

"Lean down, Scott," I said, "Rest your arms and your chin on the cushions."

I quickly decided the cushions were too soft and Scott might lose his balance or worse, so I went to my bedroom and replaced them with actual pillows.

Now Scott was hoisted over the arm of the sofa. The towels I put down would prevent any oil from his body leaving a stain.

The full moon of his ass was served up to me, helpless and ready for whipping. The complete package of his cock and balls were pushed backward between his legs.

I tugged on the clothespin biting into his scrotum. "RMMPH," Scott complained through the soap.

The big, black buttplug lodged in his ass hummed quietly. I drew the little remote control out of my pocket. I turned it up to medium, then to high once again. The plug began buzzing viciously inside his hole like an angry hornet, making the flesh of his cheeks dance and quiver like jello.

Scott wiggled his ass back and forth uncontrollably as it violated him with newfound vivacity. "RRMF," he protested through the bars of soap in his mouth, "UH...UH...RMPH!"

I watched his luscious, red ass dance around. Watched his red and purple cock grow, swelling back up to maximum size, exactly as I wanted it to be. I wanted him to be at full arousal as I whipped him, making it all the more humiliating.

I picked up the long, plastic rod and sliced it through the air so he could hear it. I held it up against his helpless, wiggling butt.

"You've earned ten lashes on your naked bubble buns, Scott. You need to count off each one, saying `I'm sorry, sir' each time, understood?"

"Yeth, thur," Scott responded quietly.

"You're allowed to wiggle your buns around because it gets me hard and makes me want to fuck your delicious man pussy all the more, but if you fail to count off any of your spankings, we start over again from one. Understand, Scott?"

Scott could not stop moaning, could not stop moving his buns as the vicious black plug raped him tirelessly. Yet, he managed somehow to groan, "Yeth, mas-thur."

"And you'd best keep that soap in your mouth, boy. Spit it out and I'll jam three of them in there."

So it began. I held the plastic rod to his ass. I pulled back one end, bending it like a bow. Then I released. It struck Scott full across the swell of his ass. "MMMF!" He cried out.

He went up on tiptoes, lifting himself part way off the couch. The rod left a nasty, red streak across his cheeks. He tried to clench them, but it was too painful with the buttplug in his hole.

"One, sir, I'm sorry, sir, (Wun, thur, furry, thur)" he moaned through the soap.

I gave him a minute to recover before holding the rod to his ass again and bending it back. The second one caught him with seemingly more surprise. His soft, naked flesh rippled on impact with a dull, vicious WACK!

"URRMF!" He cried out. He was standing on the very edge of his toes like a ballet dancer. He was clenching the pillows hard with his bound hands and burying his face in them.

"Let me hear you," I demanded.

When the third lash hit, he did not respond correctly. "Goddamnit," I heard him say, face buried in the pillow. "It hurts, goddamnit (ith hurths, gof-damut!)"

"Not the correct answer, Scott," I said matter-of-factly. "Starting over from number one. And we'll keep doing that until you do as I say."

Scott groaned a deep, frustrated groan like a trapped animal. His whole body shuddered. "You can do it, Scott," I said, "The quicker you take this seriously, the faster it will be over."

So it continued, lash after vicious lash. By the time we reached the count of five, he was weeping. Even in his pain and humiliation, the vibrator on his cock and ass kept him hard as ever. The pre-cum was dripping in big, generous drops.

WHACK! "RRRF," he growled pitifully, crying into the pillow. "Six, sir...I'm sorry, sir."

His voice was becoming more clear even as it was muffled by the pillow. It would appear he was chewing the soap in his mouth to bits and had probably swallowed a good portion of it. There were suds at the edges of his lips and he looked like he was foaming at the mouth.

"Ten, sir...I'm...I'm sorry, sir." Scott sounded completely defeated and broken by the last strike. The red lines across his buttocks were already rising into pencil-thin welts.

His hardon continued to dribble onto the carpet below.

I turned off the vibrators, giving him a moment to rest and weep quietly. I went to the bathroom and got the aloe vera gel. His welts were an angry red and must have stung badly.

"Up now, Scott," I said gently. I helped him to his feet and allowed him to lean against me. He was shaking like a leaf, his eternally hard cock pressed into the pouch of my hoodie. I walked him to the kitchen sink and allowed him to spit out the remaining bits of soap.

I rubbed the aloe vera gel on my hands and applied it to his ass as tenderly as I could, tracing carefully over the lines.

Tears streamed down from beneath Scott's blindfold. I leaned in and kissed them. He pressed his manhood against me and a moan of pleasure escaped.

"I'm sorry I was a bad boy, sir," Scott said quietly. The soap was strong on his breath.

"I know, Scott," I was applying the tips of my fingers to his sore ass in a very light massage. "You were bad earlier, but you're a good boy, aren't you, Scott?"

Scott's chest heaved, suppressing a sob, "Yes, sir...I'm a good boy...I'm going to be a good boy, I promise."

I pulled the blindfold off his head. His pretty blue eyes were red and he avoided my gaze.

"I think you've earned it, Scott...I think you've more than earned it by now."

He dared to look up at me. "Er...earned what, sir?" There was an odd combination of apprehension and hope in his eyes.

I reached down and undid the plastic rings restraining his cock and balls, first one, then the other.

Scott heaved an immense sigh upon having his cock freed at last. His breaths increased. His moans picked up with the excitement of it. He knew what was coming. What he'd been waiting for all week.

I got down on my knees in front of him. I wrapped my hand around his cock. It was already returning to a normal, pinkish hue upon being released. But it remained as big and engorged as ever.

I ingested it. I wrapped my lips around his throbbing shaft and slid down, taking him deep into me.

I gagged feeling his big, spongy head against the back of my throat. My eyes began to water. I tasted the tang of his pre-cum.

Scott's cock felt amazing in my mouth. The week he'd endured of complete denial, combined with the unrelenting sexual stimulation I'd just put him through, had shaped his member into something extraordinary.

It was hard and resilient as marble, yet hot and pulsating with life. I could feel the power of his arousal, could feel the liquids rushing through it. Even the taste and the shape of it was different: bigger, harder, yet smooth as flower petals, as if it had never been touched by human hands.

I didn't want to hold either of us in suspense any longer.

Scott was moaning loudly, uncontrollably now. It was the same irresistible concoction of pleasure and pain I'd put him through all night. The same feeling that kept him coming back week after week, difficult and even reckless though it may have been.

The buttplug was still in his ass. I reached out and pushed it inward, pressed it hard against his prostate.

I felt the rise in heat seconds before he erupted. Scott cried out as I'd never heard him before. He shot hard, long bursts into my throat. His cum was boiling hot from stewing in his balls for so long. He filled me with mouthful after mouthful until I was in danger of choking on it.

Scott gave a long and satisfied "AHHHHHHH," though I myself had to pull out so all his hot, healthy semen would not come spilling out the sides of my mouth.

Normally, I liked to make Scott try at least a little bit of his own jizz. I felt it important that he acquired a taste for himself (though I knew he didn't enjoy it).

This time, though, I wanted it all for myself. This particular batch of cum was too special: painstakingly brewed and cultivated in a week's worth of sexual denial and torment, making it all the hotter, all the tangier and sweeter.

I swallowed it all down and licked any remainder off my fingers.

I rolled down on the floor and allowed Scott to collapse on top of me. We lay there for some time, panting, exhausted, amazed at what we had just experienced. The back of my throat burned as if I'd just downed a piping hot latte.

...

I got up on the couch, undid my jeans and unleashed my throbbing hardon. I lay my head back, making myself comfortable.

I slapped my penis to test its firmness. "Suck it, Scott."

"Yes, master," Scott scrambled toward me on his knees.

I had not put myself through the same sexual turmoil as Scott that week, but that night, my own cock had strained painfully, desperate to get out, at times overwhelmed with the intensity of my slave's amazing body, the madness of desiring him.

Scott knew when I pleasured him he would be required to pleasure me in return. It went without saying.

"Just like I showed you," I said, staring up at the ceiling, "You know what to do."

I purred as Scott took me into his mouth, working his soft lips around me, making his way down my shaft until I heard satisfying, throaty gulps.

I sighed. It was a fabulous sensation. Giving into it was like slipping into a warm bath. I was used to being the one giving and I liked it that way, but it could be exhausting and it was nice to be the one receiving once in a while.

"Watch those teeth, Scott," I said through heavy breaths, "Use your lips. Those nice, cocksucker lips of yours..."

Scott could do little more than make "MMF" noises. He locked his mouth around my thick member as he took it deeper and made his way to the base.

He was getting good. He was working me over, building me up to a climax. As I felt it rise up in me, my vigor returned.

His mouth had brought my cock to tingling life and now the hunger was awakening within me. The hunger for his man pussy. The image of his bare buns dancing helplessly before me filled my head. The urgent desire to fill him up like that buttplug and fucking him hard.

Scott knew me well enough now, knew my sexual urges well enough to know what I was in the mood for.

I drew him gently away from my cock and wiped the spittle from his mouth (because of course he could not do it himself). He looked up at me in supplication.

"Shall...shall I get the condom, sir?"

I got down and kissed him on his moist lips. "No, my handsome Scott," I whispered, "I'll get it."

I let him watch me put it on as always. I always wanted to let him know we were doing this safely.

I removed the clothespins from his nipples and scrotum. I unhooked his wrists from the collar so his arms were free. They'd been restrained for so long at this point he had to flex them up and down a few times to get the feeling back.

I kissed him one more time, deeply with my tongue as he was accustomed to. I tasted the soap, tasted my own cock in his mouth. Then I turned him around and bent him over the edge of the couch. My dick was hard and ready for him.

I popped the buttplug out of his hole. "AH" Scott said in surprise. It had been inside of him for hours now and his hole spasmed uncontrollably at its sudden absence.

He clenched and unclenched his buns. Bulbous and round as they were, they looked fantastic striped with the whip marks.

I did not want to give his anus too much rest, it was fully dilated and ready to be fucked right then and there.

He sucked in his breath as I slid into him. It was easier than ever before and he felt amazing. I had a sneaking feeling we'd be using the buttplug a great deal more in the future.

"Here we go, Scott," I breathed, "Hold onto the pillows. Bite down on them if you need to."

A few test thrusts and I was ready. I began pumping his ass, gradually picking up speed. Soon I was going all the way in, my pelvis slamming against the natural cushions of his bubble butt.

I heard him moan into mouthfuls of pillow. His ass felt hot, still sufficiently red from his whippings.

Scott's anus felt as fantastic as his cock had in my mouth. I cannot always cum when fucking a man, but his ass was made for it and cumming in him was natural. It didn't take long at all. A few good hard thrusts all the way in and I burst out in hot gushing pleasure.

I felt my legs quiver and turn to jelly as I unloaded into Scott. It took some effort to dislodge myself from him completely. When I finally did so, I looked down at him. He was gagging himself in the pillow. Tears streamed from his eyes once again.

I caressed his smooth back with my hand. "Good boy, Scott...very good boy..."

I reached back and felt his cock. I knew a good ass fucking would leave him hard and ready to nut once again. He didn't disappoint.

After how worked up I'd gotten him with cum denial, I knew he wouldn't be cumming just once tonight.

"Bathroom, Scott." I led him by his hard cock down the hallway, surprised by the girth of it. It may literally have grown and thickened from this experience.

I positioned him in front of me in the mirror, one hand on his big erection, my arm wrapped around his heaving belly.

I began stroking him. Much as I liked him blindfolding, I loved watching his blue eyes roll up into his head with pleasure when I jerked him off.

"I know you're still full of that yummy cum, aren't you, Scott? We need to get it all out. We don't want any left in your hot cock, do we?"

Scott only licked his lips, his eyes rolling at the wonderful sensation on his manhood.

"Tell me, Scott," I whispered into his ear as I stroked, "Who's the one you like? The girl at work with the nice, big tits."

"Stacy," he whispered. He tasted his lips again, cock growing in my hand at the very sound of her name.

"You love her tits, don't you Scott? Nice big heavy ones."

"Oh gawd," Scott heaved, "I love her tits so much. I love to squeeze them. I just want to bite into them like apples. Her nipples, oh dear God."

"You'd love to be sucking on them right now wouldn't you, Scott? Those big, milky white tits, those nipples, big and puffy in your mouth."

Scott thrust his head back, a look of near comical ecstacy on his face. "Oh man, I'd love to taste them so badly right now. Oh God...oh!"

Scott shot his load like a champion. Stream after beautiful milky stream hit the mirror at a velocity I'd never seen before. I whistled, impressed.

I was turning Scott into a world-class sex machine. A grade-A cocksucker, and if things kept going as they were, he was on his way to being a champion cumer as well.

Scott's tight oily belly rose up and down against my arm. I scooped up some of his jizz off the mirror and held it to his lips.

"Taste, Scott," I said, "I think we've got something special going here."

He licked his spooge off my fingers and for the very first time, he did not shudder in disgust.

I saw what might have been the vaguest indication of enjoyment, so I fed him some more.

"I taste good, sir," he said after swallowing it down. I always made him say that after forcing him to eat his own cum, but this was the first time it sounded like he might actually mean it.

I slapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go, my friend."

I led him into the bedroom and beckoned him to lay down on the bed (on his stomach of course, he would need to keep his sore ass in the air for some time).

Scott was nearly dozing off by the time I had changed into my pajamas. He turned his head, surprised to see me preparing bedding on the floor.

"Shall I...shall I sleep on the floor, sir?"

"Oh no, Scott, not in a million years. The bed is all yours tonight. I am sleeping on the floor."

Scott raised his head as if alarmed, "But...but why, sir?"

I turned and looked at him. "You might be my slave, my dear Scott, but you are a prince as well. A prince I have no idea what I did to deserve. I feel the least I can do right now is give you a long, comfortable sleep in my bed. You've earned it."

Scott was taken aback, but also touched. He thought for a moment. "Will you...will you at least kiss me good night, master?"

I leaned in and kissed him, this time not as a sex slave, but as a lover. Then I turned off the light and lay down on the floor.

I heard him above me, shifting to get comfortable.

"Good night, Scott," I said.

"Good night, master..."