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Within a month after that mid-September night more than three years
ago—the night when I'd first fucked him in my dorm room—the money he'd
paid to the university for room and board was largely wasted because he
always slept with me. It had started gradually. We'd run
into each other during the day and make plans for the evening, plans
that culminated in sex, sex that in those days left us both exhausted
and left him beside me in my bed. Or, if too many days passed
between those occasions, he'd sometimes come and knock on my door at
night, sheepishly asking if I wanted to fuck him. I usually
did. So what began as twice a week turned into most nights, and
ultimately became every night.
In those days, he often propped himself up on an elbow beside me,
stroking my hair with the back of his fingers as I drifted off to a
blissful, post-coital sleep, with my cum seeping slightly out of his
fucked ass. Other times, I'd wrap my arms around him as we curled
up together. Either way, by morning, I'd have turned onto my back
as always, and he'd have rolled up into a fetal ball, his head resting
on my chest and one hand lying somewhere between my naval and my
hip—usually lightly cupping my package. He doted on me, something
akin to the puppy who adores his owner. Our mutual realization of
the nature of our relationship became more conscious, and our nascent
interest in kink and domination/submission independently became more
concrete, and inevitably to two merged into each other, and that merged
into to the love that had been developing between us independently of
it. By spring, as my graduation drew nigh, we had become
inseparable, literally from his perspective. His dependence on me
and his dedication to me had become irreversibly intertwined in a way
that neither of us had expected.
So, since roughly my birthday that October three years ago, we'd never
slept apart. As my slave, he slept on the floor, chained to my
bed, on nights before I went to work, but always near me. Even on
the rare occasions when I went out alone and brought some foolish,
naïve sub boy back home to use, my victim had always been
temporary—a few hours of abuse culminating in my orgasm and the trick's
dismissal. And then Seay would help me to bed depending on my
particular state of sobriety on that occasion. He understood that
monogamy on my side wasn't guaranteed; we both knew that I'd never fuck
another boy because I hated the feel of a condom and I wouldn't risk
exposing either him or me to disease, but there were many other ways
for me to enjoy roughing up a random, fresh face. His jealousy
had showed then but it had never revealed itself as it had the night
we'd met Bradley.
So as it happened that night after the club, after I whipped Bradley
and fucked Seay, that Seay never expected my announcement, after he'd
blotted the miniscule amount of blood from Bradley's flogged back and
gingerly spread ointment over the welts, after I'd cut Bradley loose
from the crossbeam, after I'd strapped Seay into the stocks; he'd never
expected my announcement that he would be staying there in the
basement, alone, and that Bradley would be coming up to sleep with
me. He had known that he would be punished for his misplaced
arrogance in the club, but he hadn't expected the punishment to take
such form. And he cried, deeply, pitifully, from a place that
betrayed more than physical pain or even mere disappointment in
himself. And I took no joy in it. But neither did I
relent. I left him sitting on the unfinished wooden bench, with
his back and arms stretched forward, his wrists and ankles locked in
front of him. I left him there to imagine me with Bradley in my
arms upstairs in my bed, almost three years later to the day since that
place had come in Seay's mind to be his own.
In fact, Bradley did not sleep with me. He slept in Seay's usual
place on the floor, his ankle chained to the bedpost, covered by Seay's
small, 4' square blanket. But, since Seay did not know that fact,
his one night alone in the basement proved to him forever that his
place with me could never be taken for granted.
The pale yellow light of day woke me, though I clenched my eyes shut
against it. I reached out under the blankets for the mop and
didn't find it. A seed of anger was planted. Begrudgingly,
I opened my eyes and peered out to the side of the bed. No
one. "Seay?!" I called angrily. I was horny and
needed to piss and my slave was missing.
The top of a head appeared at the foot of the bed. Short
hair. Lapis eyes. I remembered. "Fuck." I laid
back and closed my eyes under the fringe of the blanket to ward out the
light. "Go downstairs and get my slave."
"Sir, I'm locked to the bed."
Fuck. I rolled out of bed, eyes closed, and moved to the dresser,
almost tripping over the jeans I'd thrown in the floor. Seay
hadn't been there to put them away. I grabbed my keys and hurled
them to Bradley and slid back under the covers. "Do you remember
the rule about talking out of turn?" I asked.
"Yes, sir," Bradley replied. The welts on his back would remind
him of the rule for quite some time.
"Good. Help him get up. He'll be sore." Keys
jangled. Silence. I began to doze.
"Sir?" came the gentle, vocal nudge some uncounted minutes later, the
letter R rolled softly in the familiar way. Seay did not need his
accent to be attractive to me, but it never worked against him. I
even tolerated his soft singing as he went about his chores because of
it. It only grated when, at Thanksgiving and Christmas, it
clashed against the stubborn Danish accent of my parents, but I blamed
them for it and not my slave.
"Go prepare yourself like usual. Get Bradley too. You can
shower to wash his piss off you from last night, and use warm water if
you're stiff," I instructed.
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He lingered. "Sir?"
His voice trembled. "I'm sorry, Sir. And I pissed
myself. I couldn't hold it all night."
"Whatever." I was impatient. "We'll deal with it
Again, I dozed lightly. I could hear Seay's voice faintly from
the bathroom as he instructed Bradley. The running of
water. Enemas. Toothbrushing. A brief shower.
The normal sounds of his weekend morning preparation, this time
repeated as Bradley imitated him. Sounds I usually slept through.
They padded softly back into the bedroom. I ordered them into bed
with me, one on either side, and told them to make me feel good.
Seay knew me best and Bradley followed his lead. The feeling of
twin soft, wet, warm tongues lapping at my pits at the same time had my
cock at full mast in seconds. Hands roamed over my chest and abs,
trailing down to my crotch and thighs, massaging, stroking
gently. I rested my head on my palms as they buried their faces
under the covers, licking over my obliques to my nipples, then down
farther to my navel. I felt their breath on my moist skin, their
tongues playing on my flesh and with each other. Any resentment
Seay had felt towards Bradley had either evaporated in his long
solitude in the basement or had been overcome by his lust to serve me,
in whatever way I demanded it be done.
Each took a ball for himself, licking it, sucking it gently, washing it
in his mouth, rolling it over his tongue. They moved with
unspoken synchronization. As the minutes slowly passed, the
tension of the botched morning faded from me. They licked the
musky crevices where my crotch meets my thighs, then up over my sack,
ultimately tracing up the now-throbbing obelisk of my cock. They
kissed each other around my knob, their tongues fighting for it and
sharing it. I opened my eyes in spite of the light, and threw
back the blankets in spite of the chill, to watch the naked boys
worshiping my dick head, curled up against the footboard, on either
side of my legs.
They took turns, one engulfing the head, massaging it in his mouth, as
the other licked down the underside of the shaft, forcing the tip of
his tongue against the cum tube. Down, then back up the first
went, and their mouths met, and kissed, and the next took his
turn. I could feel cum boiling in my balls and my hips rolled
against the mattress. It was Seay, predictably the mischievous
instigator of my pleasure, who broke the rhythm and moved between my
legs, kneeling on the mattress and sucked my balls together into his
mouth. He reached out and pushed Bradley's face down into my
closely trimmed pubes, holding him there, as my dick soaked in his warm
throat. He was proving to me that the lesson of the previous
night had been learned. He was ready to share me. To give
my cum to Bradley, though he desperately wanted it for himself.
This act of surrender, as much or more as Bradley's fervent, needful
swallowing around my dick in his throat, brought me to the edge.
Hastily, I sat up and pushed them both away. I was sweating and
flushed, my breath ragged. "Seay," I beckoned. "Bend over
the side of the bed." He assumed his position, his upper body
resting on his palms as he bent over the bed. I rose and mounted
him from behind, penetrating him slowly, using only Bradley's spit for
lube. He sighed as I sheathed myself inside him, but rather than
passively accept my thrusts, he began to thrust back against me,
grinding into me, gyrating his hips. Bradley, unbidden, rose from
his place on the bed and knelt behind me, burying his face in my ass.
"Fuck," I moaned as I stood still, Seay's ass fucking over my cock, his
internal muscles rippling over it as he rode me, impaling himself back
into me over and over again, and Bradley's tongue forced its way inside
my hole. The insolence of Bradley's initiative went unrebuked for
the moment as I felt him fucking me by proxy, using his tongue rather
than his dick, his hands firmly grasping my hips to hold them
still. Seay went wild under me, his hairless, naked body bucking
away. I had to cum. It was too much to resist. And I
did, and I collapsed onto my slave's back, sweating and twitching as my
balls all but disappeared inside me and emptied their spunk deep inside
his clutching ass. Even then he didn't stop his gyrations, nor
did Bradley stop probing inside me with his tongue. Only once the
clenching of my hole subsided with my orgasm did he pull out of me,
timidly licking up and down the length of my crack.
I had to wait until my dick softened, which was itself difficult to
accomplish as Seay clamped his hole around it and continued to massage
it inside him, before I could slip out from between them and collapse
on the bed. Seay turned and lowered his head to nuzzle my neck as
he remained bent over the side of the bed, my cum beginning to trickle
its way out of him. I called for Bradley, who promptly crawled to
my side. Wordlessly, I backhanded him.
"You have to remember your place," I admonished him. "A slave has
no will of his own. A slave has only the will of his master."
Tears welled up in his eyes from the force of my blow. It was
surprisingly Seay who raised his head and looked at me. Without a
trace of defiance in his eyes, he whispered softly, "You ordered us to
make you feel good, sir." A moment of silence passed as we held
each other's stare, before he submissively lowered his head and began
to lick at the sweat on my neck.
I closed my eyes as Seay licked my skin. I asked Bradley if he
wanted my cum, and he begged me for it. He begged beautifully, as
if he'd been trained in begging before. I told him to suck it
from Seay's ass as I wrapped an arm around my slave's shoulders and
pinned him to me. I knew what talent lay in Bradley's
tongue. Seay did not. And Seay had never been rimmed
before. He jumped as if electrocuted as Bradley pulled apart his
pale, flat cheeks and buried his tongue to the hilt inside his still
"I don't need to tell you you're not allowed to cum, do I?" I asked
Seay as he writhed. He actually fought me, trying to pull away,
but I held him fast. He was horrified at the sensations in his
ass as Bradley dug greedily. I could hear slurping and knew that
Bradley was hungry. My slime covered cock began to pulse slightly
as Seay writhed and began to beg. He knew better than to beg to
be allowed to cum, but he begged plaintively for Bradley to stop,
whether I order it or Bradley disobey me and stop on his own. "I
can make the hell you went through last time seem like bliss," I
murmured softly to my Irish fucktoy, referring to his reward for
completing six months in chastity. Eight orgasms I'd pulled from
his balls that day, leaving him psychologically shattered and
physically spent. We both knew I could do better if I wanted to,
and that was without Bradley's assistance. Now, with Bradley my
subservient accomplice, how many times could I make Seay cum against
his will? Ten? A dozen? He knew that if he ever
climaxed without permission, I would force him to cum again and again
until his balls long since ran out of juice.
"No, please," he sobbed.
"I could make you beg me to castrate you, couldn't I? To cut your
balls off rather than make you cum again. How many would it
take? 14? 15?" I asked as if rhetorically.
"Yes! Please, sir, please don't make me cum."
"Bradley? Squeeze his balls while you eat his ass." A
muffled acknowledgement of the order came from between Seay's
buttocks. Seay shrieked as his balls were mangled. Bradley
didn't know how much Seay loved ball pain, but Seay and I did.
And in his ignorance, Bradley applied just enough pressure to drive
Seay insane with lust. I couldn't see the swollen cock, filling
the plastic cage that enclosed it, but I didn't need to see it to know
it was dripping precum and throbbing wildly. "Should I tell him
that if you don't cum, I'll paddle his balls?" I asked Seay.
"NO!" Seay screamed. We'd both seen Bradley's response to ball
pain the night before; he did not find it arousing. He would do
anything to avoid such a punishment. "Please, master!
Please don't make me cum!" Suddenly, a shudder ripped through him
and his eyes flew wide open in terror. "PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!" he
shouted as I held him against my chest. He was losing
control. I let his shoulders go and quickly reached under his
legs, closed my fist around Bradley's. I was brutal in my mercy,
crushing past his pleasure threshold and well into pain. Pain
even for a ball bitch like him. Bradley stopped tongue fucking
and looked on in surprise and some measure of pain himself as I crushed
his fist around Seay's balls, looked on as Seay doubled over, pressing
his fists into his abdomen below his navel, wretching dryly, until I
let go and he collapsed onto the floor in a fetal position.
Bradley turned to me, flabbergasted, cum and spit smeared over his
face, cheek to cheek and nose to chin.
"Clean my cock, and then I'm going to give you my piss. And if
you spill any this time, on me or the bed, you'll be with him down on
I had almost drained my bladder before Seay had adequately recovered
and the faint whine of thank yous wafted up from the floor.