This a work of fiction involving BDSM activity between consenting adults. Any similarities to actual persons, places or events is coincidental. Here in Niftyland, there are no sexually transmitted diseases, but in the real world, please be careful. If he's worth fucking with, he's worth protecting!
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The Two of Him
Not many people knew that Toro was two people. To most of the guys who knew him, Toro was a rock-solid, no-nonsense Top who could wrestle you to submission, hog-tie you in ten seconds, and satisfy both of your holes. Repeatedly. Toro was your nastiest high school bully, the sadistic prison guard, the super-strict master sergeant--you name it.
We met at a bondage demonstration at the local adult toy store. Most of the attendees were heteros--hey, they deserve some fun, too--but there was Toro, and there I was. We nodded at each other across the demonstration body. We kept glancing at each other. We tossed smiles back and forth. Then, while most of the crowd adjourned to Sparky's Tavern, down the block, we slipped off to Chaynz.
Toro had a well-deserved reputation at Chaynz, and more than a few of his, um, fans chuckled at what they knew I was in for, if I took Toro home. I was up for it, too. He had the kind of body I've lusted after since before I can remember. He wanted his cock sucked? Sure! He wanted to plow my ass? No problem! He wanted to get a little rough? I could get into being bullied. I'd jacked off on most of my seventh-grade nights dreaming about Gene, the bully I avoided like a rabid dog during the day.
Toro had one problem, he explained. He had to go to his tricks' places: he still lived with his mom. He was saving up for a place of his own, but it had to be the right place, nice and private. I sympathized: I'd looked for a place like that for almost two years before I found it. I had a problem, as well, of course. There's something a little disturbing about being Topped in your own bedroom. That's another reason I like the bully scenario: bully--or thief, take your pick--breaks in, say, so...
We adjourned to my place.
"Hey," I said, emerging from my bathroom to see Toro sprawled arrogantly on my sofa, rubbing his bulging crotch. "How'd you get in?"
Toro growled me: "Get your goddam clothes off and get your face on my boots!"
"Please don't hurt me!"
Toro jumped to his feet. "Get fucking naked or I'll tear your clothes off!"
"Yessir! Sorry, Sir!" I tossed my clothes every which way and threw myself down to his boots. They were Doc Martins, black lace-ups. I worked at them for a few minutes, happily getting lost in the smell of wet leather and eagerly anticipating what was about to happen to my soon-to-be helpless body.
"How'd ya like it if I fuckin' raped you, pussy?"
"Please don't! Don't hurt me!"
"Then get your face on my rod, cocksucker!"
"Yessir! But it's so big, Sir!" It was perhaps only a little thicker than average, but hell! Who doesn't like to hear their cock complimented? I am, if I dare say so, a damn good cocksucker. Most of the time, I start out by doing what I'd like to have done to my cock, and within a few seconds, maybe a minute, I'd discover my Top's favorite moves. I've had a lot of practice.
"That's it, cocksucker. Make me feel good. Do it, please. Use that rod!" I obeyed. And for the first time in my life--okay, in a long time--my technique didn't seem to be working. Toro's dick of death was swollen, but it wasn't growing.
I took a big chance. I slid back until the crown was resting on my bottom lip. "Sir? What do you want, Sir? Please--I'm afraid of you! I'll do whatever..."
Toro slapped me--not too hard, but enough to sting. "Shut up!"
I went back to work on his cock. I looked up at his face, glaring down at me, and sped up.
After about a minute, Toro pulled away and looked at me.
"Something wrong, Sir?"
"Stand up, stupid!"
"Yes, Toro, Sir."
He grabbed my tits and twisted. I gasped. "Oh, Sir!"
"You're hot."
"Thank you, Sir!"
Another twist. "You got, like, ropes or somethin'?"
"Yessir, and handcuffs. Are you going to make me helpless, Master Toro, Sir?"
Toro pushed me away, walked over to my sofa, sat down. I started to crawl toward him, but he stopped me. "Hey, man," he said. "I'm sorry. It's just not...you're hot and all, but..."
"You want to look at my toy box?" I asked, hopefully.
"Can I trust you?"
Huh? "Absolutely, Sir."
"None of that sir shit--just, you know, guy-to-guy?"
Dammit! There went my bully fantasy. I smiled. "What's the problem? Is something bugging--well, obviously! What can I do?"
Toro studied the floor.
"Tell me what you need, Toro. Whatever you want--I'm pretty flexible, if you know what I mean." I could tell he wasn't listening. "I mean, you're a Top and all, but that doesn't mean we have to--"
"My name is Miguel."
Smothering my surprise, I nodded. "Okay, Miguel. Um, look. If you don't want to fuck, we could just talk, maybe." I was sitting on the floor now, cross-legged and naked, staring up at this gorgeous...I suddenly realized he looked sort of like a kid, or at least his face did, from this angle. "I could make some popcorn."
"No, thanks."
"If something's bugging you, I swear I won't tell anyone." Toro--Miguel was silent, so I went on. "Sometimes, just putting it into words makes it less scary," I urged, gently.
He didn't say anything. I waited. Sometimes, silence is the best way to get somebody to tell you what's going on.
He studied my ceiling. "Did you ever see someone and think they're really hot and you want to fuck 'em and everything and then you...Shit!" He shook his head. "It's me, man, not you. You're hot as fuck. Really." Then, he stared at me for a good ten seconds or more. "Do you ever...have...Do you ever Top?"
"Um, sure. With the right guy, I can--I like bondage, slave games, whatever." I shrugged. "I like turning guys on until they're so fucking hot they can't stand it, basically."
"What if...If a Top asked you...Would you do that?"
"Top a Top? I could, if he was, you know, the right Top."
"Am I? Could you Top...me?"
There was an immense second of silence. Would I? "It...it would be an honor." I stood up, slowly. "Tell you what. You need to use the can, or anything? Need something to drink? Let me put on some clothes and, um...get a few things, okay?"
"Yeah." Toro--he--Miguel looked confused. "Where's your bathroom?"
I pointed, and while he was doing his thing, frantically gathered my discarded clothing, got into my biker boots and my chaps, grabbed a few goodies from my nightstand, and brought a nice, solid chair into the living room. Miguel reappeared. He was naked, and I really, really wanted to lick that gorgeous-- "Sit," I ordered, instead.
He flashed me a hint of a smile, and obeyed. I cuffed his hands behind him, then ran a rope from the cuffs to his ankles, pulling them back off the floor and against the outside of the stretcher bars. I took a longer piece to anchor his chest and shoulders. I added a last bit of rope to his arms, just above the elbows. Then, still standing behind him, I growled, "Listen up. You aren't going anywhere. I've got some questions. You answer my questions and we'll have a good time. You don't, and I'll show you what your tits are for, and your balls, and any other part of you I want to mess with. Understand?"
"Yessir."
"Good." I blindfolded him, and slowly walked around his body, trailing my fingers here and there, enjoying the beauty of him, the feel of his tight muscles, the twitch when I touched some unexpected place. "What's your name?" I asked, at last.
"Miguelito."
Surprise! Growl, "What's my name?"
"I don't know. You caught me, that's all I know."
"Are you my new slave?"
"What do slaves do?"
"Whatever Master wants! If I tell you to get me a beer...?"
"I'll get you a beer, Master. Or scrub your floor, or your toilet, or anything, Master."
"Do you suck cocks? Do you get fucked?"
"Whatever you want, Master."
"What if I kept you in a cage? When I wasn't using you?"
"You could do that, Master. I never did that before, so...but if you want me to, I will, Master."
"What should I do when a slave fucks up?"
"Punish me, Master."
I put a touch of annoyance into my voice. "How?"
"You could spank me, Master. Or whip my ass. Or tie me to the bed and...do stuff, Master."
"What stuff, slave!?" I snapped. "Don't you dare keep secrets from me, Miguelito!"
"You could pinch my tits, Master. Maybe slap my balls, a little, Master. Bite me places, Master." Miguelito's cock was twitching eagerly.
"And f I wanted to do other things?"
My captive squirmed, testing his bondage. "I couldn't stop you, Master."
I stood between his knees and pushed my fingers into his mouth. "Show me you know how to suck!"
"Yes, Ma-mphf."
My cock was hard, now. I went after his tits with my free hand, while I kept finger-fucking his mouth. "Don't you dare touch my fingers with your teeth, slave!"
He grunted a reply.
I pulled my hand out of his mouth and grabbed his cock. "What is this, Miguelito?"
"My prick, Master."
"You like it when I play with it?"
"Yes, Master."
"Good. You behave, and maybe I'll do it again." I lifted my hand away. "Maybe."
"Yes, Master! Thank you, Master!"
"I'm still not sure you understand what being my slave means, Miguelito. Don't go anywhere." I went back to the bedroom and returned with a ball gag and some clothespins. I'd decided to start slowly. Who knows how much actual bottoming he'd done? I clipped his tits, and he gasped. "You like that, Miguelito?"
"Yes, Master."
"Thank me, slave!"
"Thank you, Master!"
"Don't forget again!"
"I won't, Master."
I proceeded to clip the flesh around his navel, along the sides of his torso from his armpits to his waist, and down the insides of his thighs. I was able to get more on the insides of his arms. "How's that feel, Miguelito?"
"Okay, Master."
"Good." I started stroking his cock. "I don't want you to cum, slave. You have to earn the right to cum. This cock is my toy to play with, understand?"
"Yes, Master."
"What can't this cock do?"
"I can't cum, Master!"
I squeezed his shaft, hard. "I said, 'what can't this cock do," slave. Answer the question!"
Miguelito was confused for a moment, then, "It can't cum, Master."
"Good, slave. I'll tell you if I want it to cum, understand?"
"Yes, Master."
I released his cock and buckled the ball gag into his mouth. Then, I started flicking the clothespins, stretching the flesh on either side, until they finally snapped off, one by one, while Miguelito gasped and whimpered. I left the tits for last, and instead of knocking them off, I took them off slowly--and then put them right back on, turned ninety degrees. That got a really satisfying series of grunts and a rapid wiggling of his chest.
I took the gag out and grabbed the tops of his thighs and dug my fingers in. He gasped, then moaned, "Thank you, Master," several times.
"How does that feel, slave?"
"It hurts, Master."
"Good hurt, or bad hurt?"
"Hurts good, Master."
I slapped his face, lightly, and watched his cock. It twitched. "Good slave."
"Thank you, Master."
I chained his ankles with leg cuffs so he couldn't run, then untied him and stood him against the back of the chair. I secured his ankles to the rear chair legs. I tied his hands to the front legs, so he was bent over the back of the chair. His butt was dimpled. I like that. "Feel helpless, Miguelito?"
"Yes, Master."
"Do you know what's going to happen now?"
"Are you going to fuck your slave, Master?"
"Hell, no. I don't know if you're worth it, yet! I'm just going to warm your ass up, a bit." I pulled his own belt out of his jeans and folded it over. I held it in front of his face. "Kiss it, slave!" He pushed his face forward, and I kept moving the belt just out of reach. "You're disobeying me, slave!"
"I'm sorry, Master! I'm trying--"
"Maybe you don't appreciate the belt. I guess I'll have to show you." I moved into position, placed the belt on his ass, and took a first, careful swing. "Thank you, Master."
Good. Another, harder.
"Thank you, Master."
Harder. He thanked me with a whimper. Another. He gasped, then thanked me. I moved to the other side.
"Th-thank YOU, Master!"
Good. They were starting to hurt. I put the ball gag back in and gave him ten more, then unbuckled the gag and pulled his head up.
"Thank you, Master!" His voice was shaking and his eyes were red.
I pressed the belt to his lips. "Lick it! Kiss it! Thank the strap!" He obediently licked and kissed the leather. "Thank you, strap," he said. I wrapped it around his neck and untied his wrists and ankles. I took the clothespins off of his tits and smiled as he winced at the pain. "Turn around!"
"Yes, Master."
I recuffed his wrists behind him and tied his upper arms again. "Kneel!" His muscle control was amazing: he just glided into position. "See this?" I said, holding my cock in front of his face. He opened his mouth to take it in, and I slapped him again. "Do as you're told, Miguelito! Don't touch this cock without permission!"
"Yes, Master."
"My cock is the most important thing in the world, Miguelito. Keeping your Master's cock happy is your most important job. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master."
I slapped his face with the shaft, dodging his eager mouth. "Tell my cock how much you want him!"
"Please, Master's cock! Please fuck my face! My slave boy face! Please, let me suck you, Master's cock!"
I plunged my pole into his face, deep, and held it there. I pinched his nostrils. I knew he could head butt me away--he could probably push me right through the wall! The question was, would he? I held his face to my crotch until he was obviously struggling for breath, then eased back. "Thank your Master's cock, slave."
"Thank you, Master's cock!" he panted. "Permission to kiss Master's cock, Master."
"Go ahead. Kiss it. Then worship my balls with your face."
Miguelito obeyed, nuzzling my nuts, giving them gentle licks, hanging them over his nose, finally taking each of them into his mouth and bathing it with his tongue. At last, he pulled his face away enough to say, "Can your slave boy have permission to lick Master's boots, please?"
Slave boy, huh? Nice. "Go ahead. Show me what my slave boy can do."
He spread his knees and dropped his face onto my right boot. I obligingly moved my left boot out of the way. With the tip of his tongue, he traced around my right boot from instep to the outside of the sole, then began licking the toe with long, even strokes.
"Good boy, Miguelito. Good little slave boy. Show Master how much you love his boots."
The boy at my feet practically purred with pleasure. I let him work his way around my right boot, then ordered him to the other one.
"Good little slave boy. You lick every inch of that boot, Miguelito. You love my boots, don't you, slave boy?"
"Yes, Master!"
"Show my boot how much you love it." Again, I let him work for a while, then ordered him to lie on his back. With his arms tethered behind him, his head was tilted back a bit. I pressed my left boot against his face. "Lick it, slave boy. Clean it good!" But he was already working his tongue between the lugs, as a drop of fluid appeared at the tip of his dick. I steadied myself on the back of the chair so he could do a good job, then switched to the other boot. I think I could have walked on him. Maybe later.
I released his wrists and arms and sent him, still hobbled, shuffling off to the kitchen for a bottle of beer, a glass, and a saucer. When he returned, I pointed to the floor between my boots. "Put the saucer down and kneel in front of me."
"Yes, Master."
"Now pour me a glass of beer and hand it to me."
"Here you are, Master."
"Good slave boy! Now hold the bottle up. Don't spill it!" I drank a little beer--I only keep the good stuff, not that pisswater crap--and ordered him to hold the saucer up. I spit some into the saucer, ordered him to put it back on the floor, and lap it up. He got the rhythm down after a few more spits, and we enjoyed my beer. I think the best part was that he was in such great shape: his muscles were working hard, but he was steady. At some moments, he looked like a bronze sculpture.
When I was finished with the beer, I ordered him to his hands and knees and set the saucer on his back. I took the belt off of his neck, put the bottle on its side behind his head, then ordered him to tilt his head back so he could grip it. Finally, I put the empty glass in his mouth. "Take it all to the kitchen, slave boy. Throw out the bottle and put the glass and the saucer in the sink. And you'd better not drop anything!" I watched him head out, cautiously. I let him get almost to the kitchen doorway before I shouted, "Slave boy! Don't drop anything!"
Startled, he lost the bottle. "Oh, shit!" He managed to say, still holding the glass. "I'm sorry, Master!" Or at least it sounded pretty close.
"Put the glass and the saucer in the sink, slave boy," I said, as if nothing was wrong. As soon as I heard the saucer hit the sink, I shouted. "And roll that bottle back here with your nose, slave boy!"
He dropped to his knees and started rolling the bottle toward me. Of course, the bottle wasn't all that interested in me, so Miguelito had to chase it around the living room--it's not easy to control a beer bottle with your nose.
"Faster, slave boy!"
Finally, he arrived at my boots. "Forgive me, Master," he pleaded.
"You fucked up, slave boy. What happens when a slave boy fucks up?"
"He--the slave boy gets punished, Master."
"Ask for it, Miguelito."
"Please punish me, Master."
I picked up his belt and used it as a collar and leash. "Heel, slave boy!" And I led him into my bedroom. I ordered him onto the bed, facing the foot. "Butt up, Miguelito. Show me my slave boy's hole!" I pulled his arms apart, forcing his face to the mattress, and tied his wrists to the ends of the footboard. I passed another rope from one bed leg to the other, behind his knees, then ducked under the bed to pull out my toy box. I held out a long dildo, designed for butt-to-butt fucking. "See this, slave boy?"
"Yes, Master."
"I'm going to shove it into your butt. Then I'm going to punish you." I grabbed the punishment belt and held it in front of his face. "If my dildo falls out of your butt, we'll have to start over again. Understand, my little slave boy?"
"Yes, Master."
I put lube in the appropriate places and slid the dildo in. Since more than half of it was outside of his butt, my slave boy was going to have to grip it with his sphincter while I spanked him with his punishment belt. I gave him a few swats so he could understand what I expected of him, then proceeded with the punishment.
Try as he might, he couldn't hold his ass still. The dildo slipped out after the fifth stroke. "Slave boy! What did I tell you?"
"You said the punishment would start over again if the dildo fell out, Master."
"Very good." I put the dildo back in place and started in again.
"Oh, shit, Master. Your slave can't hold onto--" The shaft slid out again. I'd used lots of lube, of course.
"You're fucking up, slave boy! Try again!"
He actually managed to hang onto the thing for eleven strokes, but then...
"Too bad, Miguelito. I guess I'll just have to fuck you." So I did, long and hard. I slapped his back with the belt while I did it.
"Oh please, Master. I'm sorry I dropped Master's bottle! I'm sorry I dropped Master's dildo! I'm so sorry, Master!" I kept fucking, mentally applauding my self-control. 'Please, please, Master! Slave boy Miguelito is sorry! Please, Master! Master's cock is so big!"
Heck, I like compliments, too. "Has my slave boy learned his lesson!?"
"Yes, Master! Slave boy Miguelito has learned his lesson. Slave boy Miguelito will never drop a bottle again, Master."
"Very well, slave boy!" And I shot. And shot, and shot about a gallon of juice into Miguelito's fine, tight ass. I let us rest for a bit, but I wanted more. And he was my slave boy, after all. So I untied him and handed him the dildo. "Fuck yourself, slave boy! Put on a show for your Master!"
"Y-yes, Master."
I thought I caught a hint of surprise in his voice, so I smiled. "Show me what you can do, Miguelito!"
He pushed the dildo in, just past his anus, then pulled it out and pushed it in again, a little deeper this time. He pulled it back some, then worked it deeper still. On the next plunge, he hit his sweet spot, and things got interesting. I kept urging him on, and soon he was rolling around the bed, hands around his legs, then between his legs; he tried to sit on the thing, but it was too long and too flexible; he was muttering in Spanglish; he was obviously adept at playing with his own ass.
I didn't want to let him get too far: a frustrated bottom is more fun. So I snatched the dildo away and he crouched, butt down, face toward the ceiling, howling almost like a dog.
I gave him a few seconds to catch his breath, then, "Slave boy! Clean this mess up!" Mostly, this meant wiping off his butt, the dildo and his hands and shaking out some of the tangled bed linen. If we had a couple of days, I'd have him doing laundry, but there was something else in my head, now.
When things were more or less under control, I ordered him to kneel on the floor. I wrapped his wrist to his upper arm with several turns of rope. I secured the loops by passing the rope between his wrist and shoulder and then between his forearm and upper arm and tying it off. When I started to do the same thing with his other arm, he knew what was coming. Wrapping his ankles to his thighs was trickier--legs don't fold as neatly as arms. But when I was done, Miguelito was crawling on his knees and elbows. I dug through my toy box until I found a nice studded dog collar. "Kiss your collar, Miguelito."
My slave boy obeyed.
"Good boy. Now lick it." I let him do that for a few seconds, then "Take it in your mouth and shake it."
He obeyed, and it was obvious that he was enjoying himself.
"Good boy. Now give me your collar." I held my hand under his mouth and he dropped the collar into it.
He closed his eyes as I buckled it around his neck. "That's a good little slave boy, Miguelito!"
He barked.
"Good doggie. Roll over, doggie."
Miguelito gave another "yap," and rolled over onto his back so I could pet his tummy, and his tits, and wiggle his junk and tickle his neck.
"Stand up, doggie!" Miguelito was confused. "Stand up on all fours, doggie!" He rolled back into position on his knees and elbows. I clipped a leash to his collar. "Let's see if you know how to heel, doggie." I led him around the bedroom. He got ahead of me a couple of times, which resulted in a yank of the leash and, the second time, a swat on his ass. I stopped at my toy box again, and dug out my dog-tail butt plug. "Crouch, boy! Butt up!" I worked the butt plug into his hole, then led him to the mirror on the closet door, so he could see himself, and wag his new tail. "Good dog, Miguelito! Good pup! Heel!" and I led him out to the living room.
"Can you sit up, Miguelito?" He did, and barked. "Good pup!" I patted his head. "Stay!" I hurried to the kitchen and grabbed some cookies to break up for treats to reward him with. I also got a paper cup. "Sit up and beg, pup! You want a treat?"
"Yip yip."
I fed him a piece of cookie. I unhooked his leash, wadded up the paper cup and showed it to him, then threw it. "Fetch, pup!" He ran off after it, and returned a few seconds later with it in his mouth. "Give it to me, pup!"
He dropped the crushed cup into my hand. "Fetch," I said, and threw it again--further, this time. "Hurry up, doggie. Faster, Miguelito!" I kept him at this until the effort was beginning to show. He returned the cup one last time, and I put it aside. "Lick my boots, pup!"
Miguelito lowered his face to my boots. It's harder to do this when you're on knees and elbows; his deltoids were lovely. He got to my boots and started in. I gave him a few seconds, then had him sit up for a bit of cookie, then ordered him back to my boots. Irresistible. I had him do this a few more times, then told him to stay while I walked all the way to the bedroom.
"Here, doggie! Come, Miguelito!" He did a pretty good job of scampering up to me. "Lick my ass, Miguelito!" I'd positioned myself at the mirror, so I could watch him at his task. It looked almost as good as it felt. "Good pup! Get in deeper, now!" As I said it, I realized I could be referring to Miguelito's puppy play, as well as Miguelito's tongue in my ass. He was obeying both. I'd been tempted on several occasions to buy one of those leather pup masks. Now, I had a reason for that, and some other dog toys.
Miguelito's attention to my hole was having the expected effect on my pole. "Miguelito! Here pup!" He scampered around me. "Lick my cock, pup!" Miguelito wiggled his tail eagerly and went to work. After a few seconds, it was obvious that he wanted to do more than lick. "Sit up, doggie!" He did. "See my cock, pup?" He whined and panted eagerly. "Do you want to suck my cock, pup?"
"Woof! Woof!" he barked, and hung his tongue out.
"Smell it, pup!" He did. "Wag your tail, pup! He did. "Beg for it, pup!"
Miguelito crouched and wagged his tail. He sat up. He barked and waved his paws. He whined. He dropped to all fours and rolled completely over, then repeated the whole thing: crouch, wag, sit up, bark, paws, whine.
"Go for it, Miguelito. Show me what a good little puppy can do with this stick!" I let him do most of the work. He had a surprisingly good throat, and it almost felt like he had two tongues in there. "Good pup! Good, good pup! Oh, yeah! Take it, doggie!" and I rammed my cock into his mouth almost savagely.
He loved it, and drained me. I fell back onto the bed. I could see Miguelito on the floor, wiggling his ass, panting and licking his lips.
I had a wicked thought. "Go fetch your leash, doggie! Quick, now!"
My dog boy rushed from the room and bounded back with the leash, dropping it at my feet. "Sit," I said. I grabbed the leash and clipped it to his collar. "Heel." And I led him outside, into the back yard. It wasn't screened with hedges or fencing, but there were plenty of shadows. Besides, it was late. And anyhow, if you'd looked out of your window late at night and seen your neighbor in his back yard with a naked guy on a leash, would you mention it? Okay, maybe you would, but I'm talking about white-bread heterosexuals, here.
"Go ahead and piss, pup. Piss like a big dog."
Miguelito actually sniffed around a little, found a tree, and lifted his hind leg. A few seconds later, I heard the stream striking the bark. I waited for him to finish, and then said, "Good dog, Miguelito. Damn good dog!"
We went inside. I sat on the sofa, and Miguelito sat on the floor between my legs. "You know, pup, I would never, ever hurt a dog--especially a good doggie like you. But I might want to torture my slave boy a bit. So what do you think, Miguelito? Should my doggie stay, or my slave boy?"
Miguelito pondered this for a moment. "Woof," he said at last. "Your pup is tired, I think. But your slave boy is here."
So I removed Miguelito's collar, untied him and gave him a little time to stretch before our next round. When he seemed ready to go, I spoke. "Slave boy!"
"Yes, Master."
"I want to torture you."
"What did I do wrong, Master?"
"Nothing, slave boy. I just think slaves should be tortured, now and then."
"Yes, Master."
"Get on the bed. Spread eagle, slave boy! Face down!"
"Yes, Master." Miguelito was doing a damn good job of looking like a scared kid. It was almost as if he could make his muscles disappear. Almost.
He waited in position while I opened my toy box again. I had a nice pair of locking leather cuffs for his wrists, which I chained to the corners of the bed. I had another set for his ankles. No locks for these, but he wasn't going to be able to reach them. I gave his legs a good pull, before I secured them, so he'd be nice and tight. And I made sure his cock and balls were pulled back behind his ass, not tucked up underneath him. "You feeling helpless, slave boy?"
"Yes, Master."
"Good." It was clothespin time again, along the sides of his torso and the backs of his legs. I surrounded his ass. I ran a row along his piss slit. Then I grabbed my riding crop, climbed onto the bed, pushed my booted feet under his arms, and worked my crotch down to his face. He whimpered as some of the clothespins snapped off. "Lick my balls, slave boy!" It was a struggle, but we did it. When my shaft was nice and full, I hoisted his head far enough so he could get my cock in his mouth. "Suck!" I had him, now. My cock grew in his mouth, to the point where he couldn't quite get it out. Saliva was running down my shaft. "Take it, cocksucker!"
He did. He struggled, almost choked, but he took it. While he did that, I used my riding crop to tap at the clothespins--the ones I could reach, of course: basically, every one down to the ones on his ass. He whimpered. He drooled. A clothespin popped off. He yelped. I tapped a few more clothespins, and another snapped off. I went after a third, and a fourth. My crotch and the sheet beneath it were soaked with his spit. The clothespins kept popping off, while he gasped and whimpered and sucked. A guy can only take so much of this: I forced his head down on my cock and held it there while I shot and he struggled, managing to get a few of the clothespins I couldn't reach to snap off.
He held his head up as well as he could to get some air, while we waited for my dick to soften enough for me to withdraw. I slowly got to my feet and unhooked his arms from the bed. "Kneel up, slave boy."
He obeyed and I secured his hands to the footboard so he was on his knees, facing me. He started to settle back. "Stay up, slave boy! I'm not done yet!" I got a parachute cuff from my toy box and snapped it around his nuts, then ran a rope from the cuff to the head of the bed and back. I released his left hand, released the chain from the footboard, and tied the end of the rope to it. I bounced back onto the bed. I buckled his punishment belt through the loop of rope and around my waist. "Play with your prick, slave boy. He pushed his crotch forward by bracing as well as he could on the footboard and grabbed his cock. I slid backwards, just a bit, so the movements of his hand would tug on the parachute cuff, and therefore on his balls.
Most guys have some difficulty jacking off with their "weak" hand--which is usually the left (though I was pretty sure nothing was really weak on Miguelito). It gets even harder to work your cock when every move your wrist makes tugs your nuts. I kept backing up, so the tugs kept getting stronger. "Keep working it, slave boy, but don't let it cum! You look pretty!"
Miguelito blushed--not a lot, but enough to make me smile. "Real pretty little slave boy, messing with his little pee-pee. I think I'll let you cum, if you beg me and agree to a few things, little slave boy. Then maybe I'll lock you in a cage, all chained up so you can't touch your peepee at all, but you can suck your master's cock through the bars. Lock a big chain around your neck to hold your slave boy face right against the bars so I can shove my cock right into my slave boy's mouth any time I want to, day or night." I kept on like this, until I was backed up tight to the headboard. Then I said "Stop!" and he did while I moved forward and tightened the rope. Then I let him start jacking again, tugging his nuts with every move. I could tell his back and right shoulder were getting tired, too.
"Please, Master, can your slave boy cum? I'm real close."
"From now on, Miguelito, when you come to my house, you're my slave boy, understand?"
"Yes, Master."
"Sometimes, you'll mop my floors or clean my toilet, naked and chained. And I'll punish you as much as I want to, understand?"
"Yes, Master."
"Do you agree?"
"Yes, Master."
"Do you promise to always be Miguelito, my little slave boy, while you're here?"
"Yes, Master."
"Are you ready to cum, slave boy?"
"Yes, Master. Please, Master!"
"If I put my boot under your prick, will you lick all the slave boy cum off of it?"
"Yes, Master! Please let your little slave boy cum, Master!"
"Very well. Go ahead, little slave boy!"
His first few shots went way past my boot, of course. At least one landed on my belly, and another on my crotch. I unbuckled the slave belt and released his right hand, so he could brace himself while he licked his juice off of me. Then I pulled his face to mine and kissed him, deep.
We talked about it all, later: about how somewhere there's a Top for every Top, and a bottom for every bottom, and if you're lucky, you'll find him. Miguel needs Toro, like armor, and Toro needs me to take care of Miguelito. I would love to crawl at Toro's feet and bend to Toro's power, but he never visits, now--but no matter: I love my little Miguelito.