Date: Sat, 9 Jun 2012 15:44:48 -0500 From: Steve Street Subject: The faint aroma of soap - Part 7 The hunger I feel drives the thoughts of whipping to the back of my mind. I get up and walk into the kitchen. Boy is kneeling with his hands on his ankles, and head bowed. I look over to the table and see that he has set the two places, and that food steams from the plates. I take a few moments and enjoy the sight of the masculine beauty of boy's body. Even the cock cage, in some strange way, adds to his attractiveness. As I walk over to my chair, I run my fingers through the strip of hair on boy's head and sit down. Boy has prepared lasagna and a small salad. I tell boy to get up and sit in his chair. Boy quickly gets up and, with obvious caution, slides into his chair ass first and waits, hands at his side, for me to start eating. I pick up my fork and, purposely, take my time pushing the fork through the top edge of the lasagna. Boy's eyes are focused on my fork; he cannot start eating until I put the first bite in my mouth. I put the fork of lasagna in my mouth and watch him pick up his fork. Before I have eaten three bites, he has eaten about half of his lasagna. Boy may be eating quickly, but he does so with correctness - keeping his back straight, head up, bringing the food to his mouth without spilling any of it. After boy has eaten everything he waits, his chin on his chest, for me to finish. I push my empty plate back and tell boy to stand up and clean-up the kitchen and when he has completed that task, to go into the den. I walk into the den and turn on the music system, tuning in a jazz station, adjust the volume to be just loud enough for me to hear. I sit at my desk and power up my computer. In a few moments, I am focused on my in-box, which is full. I have several e-mails from the firm and begin responding. I am so engaged in what I am doing that I do not notice that boy has come in and has knelt next to my chair. After sending a message, I look over and see boy in the expected position with his hands on his ankles and head bowed. I reach down, and rub the back of his neck. Boy looks up as I touch him, and i put my hand on his cheek. I smile, feeling a warm glow pass through me and, in spite of having fucked boy not three hours ago, my cock starts to get hard. I put these erotic thoughts aside, for the moment, and tell boy to get on his ass with his back against my desk chair. He turns and gets comfortable with his legs out in front of him. I hand him the I-pod and tell him to have fun. I do not know whether boy likes the music, as I do, or whether he pays any attention to it. Within moments, he is absorbed in a game, letting out soft yips and moans as he plays. I turn back to my computer, and I am immediately fully and pleasantly absorbed dealing with the business matters. Completing the last response to Max and my secretary at the office, I look at the time. Almost two hours have passed. I smile to myself thinking how fast time goes by when I am doing what I like. There remains one unopened e-mail. I open the message. It is from Howie, my friend and fellow Master. The message states that he looks forward to spending a weekend at my place. "I look forward to spending a weekend at your home. I will, of course, bring along my boy. We can talk at length in the privacy of your home exploring our mutual experience as a Master. As Masters we belong to a limited and excusive group. I do not know whether you have met other Masters but, except for you, I have not. I am fortunate that we have become friends. My first free weekend is two weeks from this Friday. Let me know if this date is good. If not, give me another date. Your friend. Howie" I let my thoughts drift after reading this message. I picture Howie and me sitting on the couch having a lively discussion while our boys kneel, naked, at our feet. That erotic scene in my mind, I type out my reply to Howie's e-mail. "Two weeks from this Friday works. Let me know about what time you think you will be here that Friday. My boy is a tolerable cook, a result of weeks of diligent training on my part, and he will prepare all our meals. I have a large back yard with grass and trees and, since the nearest neighbor is more than 400 yards away, affords complete privacy. We can have the boys outside in their naked splendor without concern about any prying eyes. The guest bedroom has a large double bed, and an adjacent bathroom with a walk-in shower. I share your sense of good fortune that we are friends. Like you, I have not met any other Master. You are a good friend and a Master as well. Your friend, Jake" I let out a sigh of satisfaction as I push the 'send' button and turn off the computer. I look down at boy, still absorbed in his game and, apparently, unaware that I have turned off the computer. I put my hand over his shoulder and touch the I-pod as I tell him to turn off the power and hand it to me. With some reluctance, he turns the I-pod power off and lets me take it. I put the I-pod on my desk and walk over to my chair. Boy has gotten back onto his knees and furtively looks my way, no doubt wondering what he is to do. I sit down and tell boy to come over. Boy hurriedly rises to his feet, walks over and kneels in front of me. "Tell me, boy" I ask him "what you must worship every day?" The question I asked him frequently during his early training. His head still bowed, he said, "Master, I must worship your cock every day" I stood up and instructed him to remove my pants. Boy brings his hands up, unzips and unbuttons my pants. The pants fall to my feet, and boy puts his lips on the tip of my cock. Boy keeps his eye focused on my cock as I sit down. "Good boy," I say. "Now I want you to kiss and lick my cock until I am satisfied you have shown my cock the devotion it deserves." Boy leans his head forward and starting at the base of my now hard cock, slowly plants little kisses on my cock working his way down until his lips kiss the tip. Using his tongue, he licks the underside of my cock, the tip and back up the top of my cock and then licks down the length and licks the underside. I say nothing, just enjoy the pleasure flowing from my cock, and let him lick for several minutes. As he continues his worshipful licking, I tell him "Boy, you pleased me this evening with the dinner you prepared. You did not prepare a dessert, which I did not want or need anyway, but I think you deserve dessert. So, for your well-earned dessert, you can savor and eat my sweet cream. Now I want you to swallow my cock and slowly suck it until you receive my cream" Boy immediately puts his lips around my cock and little by little moves his head forward until his lips touches my public hairs, and my cock is in his throat. Boy has learned, after much training and practice, to swallow my cock into his throat without gagging and to breathe through his nose while doing so. Boy remains motionless for several seconds, letting his throat adjust to the intrusion. As he leans his head back, I feel his tongue swipe the base of my cock. He then pushes his head forward until his lips touch my pubs and pause for one or two seconds with my cock is in his throat. Boy repeats these movements with a regular pace for several minutes, not seeming to tire, breathing loudly through his nose. I enjoy the ecstatic pleasure he is giving me, and I let him do all the work. Sensing that I am about to ejaculate, I hold boy's head steady with my hands under his ears, move my cock so it is not in his throat, and I feel the orgasmic charge as my cream spurts from my cock. Boy gulps rapidly trying to swallow all of my cream as it streams out of my cock. In spite of his efforts, a little amount of my cream drips from the corner of his mouth. I smile down at boy as I gently move his head back and my cock drops out of his mouth. Using my finger, I wipe up the errant cream on his chin and put the finger in his mouth, telling him to suck the finger clean. I lean back in the chair, letting the orgasmic tension slowly fade, and watch boy lick his lips and swallow several times. I get up, pick up my pants, and tell boy to follow me to the bedroom. I turn out all the lights and walk into the bedroom and into the bathroom. Boy kneels behind me as I piss into the toilet. I flush the toilet and tell boy to relieve his bladder. I listen to his strong piss stream splash into the water, another measure I take to track his general health. Boy gets up and kneels in front of me. I look in the toilet. The water is a light yellow color, which satisfies me. I flush the toilet, motion for boy to follow me, and walk into the bedroom. "OK boy," I tell him, "turn down the covers and get into bed on your side." I turn off the lights as he assumes his position on the bed. I sit on the side of the bed, turn off the table lamp, and lay next to boy. Putting my arm over his chest, I hug his back into my chest, pressing my now soft cock against his ass. I gently nibble his ear lobe and whisper "You give me pleasure, boy, and I love you." I wake up. The sunlight through the window dimly lights the bedroom. I look at the clock on the table next to the bed - it says 6:00. Unusually early for me but I feel rested and refreshed. Boy gently snores, his head nestled on my chest. I stretch my legs, not wanting to wake boy up just yet, and enjoy the sensation of his warm breath on my chest. After a while, I push the covers down with my legs while nudging boy's shoulder. Reflexively, boy stretches and yawns. As he opens his eyes, he puts his lips on my chest and moves his head downwards towards my cock. Boy licks my balls and then the underside of my cock. I wonder how I ever started a day without the pleasure of boy's tongue licking my cock and balls before I get up in the morning. The pleasure, however, is being overridden by my need to piss. This week, I decide, I will train boy to drink my piss. No longer able to ignore my urgent need to piss, I raise my legs pushing boy away from my cock. I tell him to get out of bed. We both get up, and he follows me into the bathroom and kneels behind me as I piss. When I have emptied my bladder, I flush the toilet. "Boy," I tell him, "sit on the toilet and empty your bladder, and if you need to, you have permission to shit." I start brushing my teeth, listening to the splash of his piss stream as it hits the toilet water. I finish brushing my teeth. Boy is now off the toilet and on his knees. I look into the toilet - as I expected, he did not have a bowel movement and the color of his urine looked healthy. I flush the toilet and walk into the shower. Boy, it seems to me, is more attentive than usual. He takes his time drying my back, gently massages my balls in the towel, and flicks his tongue into my piss slit as he kisses my cock. "Boy, while I get dressed, you go to the kitchen and prepare our breakfast. This morning I want fresh grapefruit, a bowl of Special K cereal sprinkled with wheat germ and topped with sliced banana and an English muffin." Without further instruction, boy gets up from his knees and walks out towards the kitchen. I reminisce, as I start dressing, about the first few weeks I had boy. I spent a lot of time training him how I wanted my meals prepared. I smile to myself, remembering how that special butt plug helped him understand and obey. In those first weeks, I kept that training plug up his ass just about all day every day. Whenever he failed to listen or just did something wrong, I would press the button on the remote and the plug would emit a quick but painful electric shock. I finish dressing and walk into the kitchen. Boy is putting the bowls of cereal on the table as I walk in. He puts the bowls down and kneels close to my feet. I put my hand on his left cheek and as he looks up, I give him a big heart-felt smile. "Now get up boy and get the rest of breakfast ready." Boy gets to his feet. I walk over and sit in my chair. I watch boy scurry to get the rest of the food on the table and then kneel next to his chair. He has prepared everything pretty much as I like it. "You did well, boy," I tell him. "I am pleased. Now sit in the chair, and we will enjoy this meal." I watch boy eat and I think, as I did in the shower, that boy seems to be making an extra effort to please me this morning. As usual, he has finished while I am still eating and sits quietly, a contented smile on his face, waiting for my instructions. "Boy," I tell him, " get up and fix us each a cup of coffee." Boy gets up, pours the coffee and puts a cup in front of me and the other at his place. "Remain standing," I tell him. I take a sip of my coffee, and wait for a moment. I flick his cock cage with my finger. "Tell me, boy," I ask him, "when can you touch that cock?" "Master, only with your permission," boy responds. "Or to get it clean for me," I tell him. "Because you disobeyed that rule I cannot have your sweet cream in my coffee this morning. Now, sit down." Boy, sits down with care, and is no longer smiling. "Continue to please me boy, as you have this morning, and that cage will come off in a few days, and then I can milk your cock and enjoy your sweet cream in my coffee. Think about that when that caged cock gives you discomfort. Understand, boy?" "Yes, Master," boy responds, his voice shaking. "And Master, I will never again touch my cock without your permission. I need to have my cock milked so badly, Master, that it hurts." "Your needs have no importance, boy." I tell him. "I will milk your cock for my pleasure, not yours." "Yes, Master," he responds, clearly struggling to keep from crying. "Now, boy," I continue, "when we have finished the coffee, I want you to clean up the kitchen and then do the laundry. And when you take the clothes out of the drier, neatly fold them or put them on hangers and put them in their proper place. While you do the laundry, vacuum the carpet in both the den and living room. Under no circumstances are you to go into either bathroom until I get back from shopping. You have not been doing an adequate job of shaving your body, and I want to supervise your body cleaning this morning. If you finish the laundry and vacuuming before I return, come into the kitchen and wait for me. Understood?" "Yes, Master," boy promptly responds. "I will clean-up the kitchen, do the laundry and vacuum the carpets in the den and living room and wait in the kitchen for your return." "Good boy," I tell him. "I am going to the super-market this morning to restock our food supply. I expect to be back in about two hours. Now drink your coffee and then stand up and get started." I stretch my legs out and sip my coffee. I am no hurry. I enjoy watching boy's lithe body as he moves around the kitchen. I drink the last of the coffee, and saying nothing more to boy, walk out of the kitchen. I walk down the hall to the guest bedroom. I lock the bedroom door to prevent boy from using the attached bathroom. I walk to the garage. My mind focuses on shopping as I park the car in the super market parking lot. I eat to live. I quit eating large, multi-course meals long ago. I enjoy meals that are simple and nutritious. Anyway, while boy is a tolerable cook, I want food he can prepare quickly without spending a lot of time doing so. I push the shopping cart through the aisles of the store, taking my time, especially when I go down the frozen-food aisle. Prepared frozen meals are not only tasty, the right ones are nutritious, and just about all of them can be quickly prepared in the microwave. I check my mental inventory of what I need and want as I move down each aisle. My cart is all but overflowing with fresh fruit, frozen meals and vegetables and household supplies, by the time I start back towards the check-out counter. I park my car in my garage and using the electronic remote, close the garage door. I have an urgent need to piss as I walk into the kitchen and continue walking to the master bath. The bathroom door is open and I see boy sitting on the toilet. Apparently, he is in the midst of a bowel movement which prevents him from getting to his knees. Boy lowers his head, struggling to push out the rest of his shit so he can get off the toilet. "I did not give your permission to shit, boy," I tell him sternly. Boy slips his ass off the toilet, the plastic cage on his cock clanks against the edge of the toilet bowl, and gets to his knees. "Master, I had to go so bad I couldn't wait. I'm sorry, Master." "You know better, boy," I respond. "You cannot piss, let alone shit, without me telling you to do so. You have disobeyed me, and I am not at all pleased." Boy hangs his head lower. "I'm really, really sorry Master," There was a note of despair in his voice as he said this. He knows that there will be a painful consequence to my catching him shitting without my permission. I step behind boy and look into the toilet. The toilet bowl is filled with a soft mass of shit, which satisfies me. I can tell that he, indeed, had an urgent need to relieve his bowels. Nonetheless, he disobeyed and he will suffer the consequences. I take out my cock and piss over the shitty contents in the toilet and then put my cock back in my pants and flush the toilet. "OK, boy," I tell him. "I will deal with your disobedience later. Did you get the laundry finished?" "Yes, Master, " he responds. "Good. Get up, go to the kitchen and wait for me." Boy gets to his feet, and his head lowered, walks out of the bathroom. I walk out of the bathroom and into the living room. I have a fully stocked bar on one side of the living room. I do not imbibe alcohol very often, but once in a great while, I enjoy a good bourbon. My favorite is Jack Daniels poured over ice and sweetened with vermouth. I also have a modest stock of good wine. I pick up one of the bar stools and carry it into the kitchen. Boy is kneeling, hands around his ankles and his head down. I walk to the far end of the kitchen and place the bar stool against the wall. I walk back and into the den. After picking up my Kindle reader, I walk to the closet and grab the bamboo rod. I walk back into the kitchen, put the rod on the top of the bar stool, and then sit in my chair at the kitchen table. "Get to your feet, boy. Go to the garage and bring in the groceries from the trunk of my car and when you have put away all the groceries, I will tell you what to fix for our lunch." "Yes, Master", he says as he stands up. I watch boy walk out to the garage as I turn on my Kindle reader. I am absorbed in the novel I down loaded from the computer last evening and pay little attention to boy as he quietly moves from the refrigerator to the cupboards putting away the food and the household goods I bought this morning. I reach the end of a chapter in the novel and turn off the Kindle. Boy is kneeling by my chair. I take a moment to look around the kitchen and am satisfied that boy has put everything away, and all is neat and orderly. "OK, boy," I say to him. "Fix us something to eat. Make it sliced turkey sandwiches with jellied cranberry sauce and mayonnaise. And an apple and pear for each of us, quartered and cored. Now, stand up and get to it." "Yes, Master," boy responds as he gets to his feet. As he prepares the meal, boy has his back to me most of the time, which is more than fine with me. The way his ass muscles twitch as he moves, his balls hanging down from the cock cage, provide a delightful sight. Boy has a masculine beauty. His ass has no feminine roundness but a muscular firmness. I watch his movements with a sense of erotic contentment as well as pleasure. Soon enough, boy has the food prepared and brings two plates, one with the sandwich the other with the fruit, and puts them in front of me and scurries back to the counter and returns with two more plates which he puts on the table and gets to his knees. "Outstanding, boy," I tell him. "you have prepared what looks like a first-rate lunch. Sit in your chair and eat." Boy, a smile on his face as if the storm has passed, gets up and ass first, slides onto his chair and waits for me to start eating. I do not hurry eating, the sandwich, indeed, is very good. After I have eaten everything, I push the plates back. Boy finished eating several minutes earlier and is quietly sitting with his head lowered waiting for my instruction. "Boy," I tell him, "stand up and go over to where I am pointing, pick up the bar stool and rod, and bring them over here to the table" Boy's shoulders drop when he hears my words and sees the stool and cane on the other side of the kitchen. Slowly, he walks across the kitchen, picks up the bar stool, and holding the cane steady with his thumbs so it would not fall off, even more slowly walks back to the kitchen table and puts down the bar stool. "Remain standing, boy and put your hands behind your back," I tell him. Boy puts his hands behind his back, a worried look on his face."You disobeyed me this morning by breaking a fundamental rule. Tell me what rule you broke" "Master," boy responds, his voice shaking and low, "I took a shit without your permission." "You know that you cannot shit without my permission. You know you cannot piss without my permission. You know that you cannot ejaculate without my permission. You understand that, don't you boy?" "Yes, Master. I understand." Boy responds as he strains to hold back from sobbing. "Then, repeat to me, boy, those rules." His voice catching between sobs boy tells me the rules. "Master, I must have your permission to piss. Master, I must have your permission to shit. Master, I must have your permission to ejaculate." "You do understand those rules boy. To break any of them is an act of disobedience that demands fifteen strokes of the cane," I tell him as I watch his body shiver, "but you have done everything I instructed you to do this morning, and I am pleased with the good job you have done. So I am reducing the strokes to seven." I wait about a half minute, giving boy a chance to absorb what is going to happen to him. "Get on the stool, boy, on your stomach and grab the stool legs with your hands." I stand up and watch boy, his body shivering, lay over the bar stool. His caged cock clanks against the edge of stool seat and his ass is up. I push his feet further apart with my foot and pick up the cane. I confess, I truly enjoy the sight before me. That milk-white muscular ass seems to me to be inviting the bite of the cane. I wait a minute, savoring the sight. I step over so I am standing on boy's side, raise my arm and, within a split second the cane swooshes down and, with a sharp crack, lands on boy's ass. Boys' body jerks and he lets out a yelp at what must be excruciating pain. "That's one, boy." I tell him. Before I give the next stroke I watch as a fiery red streak begins to show on his ass where the cane landed. After each stroke, I announce the number and wait a full minute to watch the fiery streak develop on his ass. I administer the seventh stroke, and stand back putting the cane down. Boy is sobbing deeply as I admire the neat pattern of red welts that now graces his masculine ass. I sit down. I wait about five minutes, listening to boy's abating sobs. By that time, he is only sniveling, and his body has quit shaking. "Alright, boy," I tell him, " Get off the stool and kneel in front of me." Slowly, boy gets off the stool, and without standing up, drops to his knees in front of me. His unshaven face is wet with tears, and his nose is running. "Tell me, boy" I ask him, "What do you have to say?" "Master," he responds with his head lowered and voice cracking, "I thank you for the whipping." "Tell me, boy, what has this whipping taught you?" "Master, that I am to never again take a shit without your permission." "What else?", I ask. Pausing for a moment, boy responds. "Master, that I must have your permission to piss." "And?" I ask. "Master, that I cannot cum without your permission." "I hope, boy," I tell him, "that the cane strokes burning your ass has burned those rules into your mind. Stand up boy and turn around." Boy slowly gets to his feet and turns around. I sense the heat coming from the fiery welts on his ass. I feel as if I am an art critic appraising the work of a painter or sculptor. I find beauty in the pattern of red welts, superbly contrasted against the milky-white skin of his ass. As I guess artists do, I have a sense of satisfaction and gratification as I admire my completed work. "All right, boy," I tell him. "I want you to clean up the kitchen and while you are at the counter, you are to blow your nose and clean the snot off of your face. When you have those tasks completed, I want you to fill a large glass with water and drink it all and then go to the master bathroom." "Yes, Master," boy responds and promptly starts walking towards the kitchen-sink counter. I pick up the Kindle reader and walk out of the kitchen to the den. I hear boy loudly blowing his nose, and I cannot help but smile to myself. I walk into the den, sit at my desk and put the Kindle reader on the desk top. I think about how contented and calm I feel at this moment. While caning boy I felt no rage, no anger, no adrenaline rush. I felt I was doing what I wanted to do. Frankly, I enjoyed doing what needed to be done to accomplish a desired goal. I walk out of the den to the master bath. Boy is kneeling in front of the toilet facing the door. "Turn around and face the toilet, boy. I want you to brush your teeth, and because you were a bad boy this morning, you will use the toilet water." "Yes, Master," boy responds. As boy swivels around to face the toilet I pick up his toothbrush and the toothpaste from the sink counter. I hold them in front of boy's face. "Take your toothbrush and the toothpaste and brush your teeth, " I tell him I stand back, my arms folded across my chest, and watch boy brush his teeth while I admire the fiery red pattern on his ass. "Put your head down into the toilet bowl, boy," I tell him. "Don't hurry the brushing. Do a thorough job" Boy keeps his head inside the toilet bowl, raising his head a couple of times to put toothpaste on his brush. I see that he has stopped brushing. "Suck up some toilet water, boy, and rinse your mouth." I hear boy suck up some water and a few seconds later, spit it out. "Do it again, boy, " I tell him. I take the toothpaste and toothpaste from his hands after he has rinsed his mouth the second time, run some tap water over the toothbrush and place it and the toothpaste on the counter. "Stand up and get in the shower, boy," I tell him. "After you have your body rinsed, turn off the shower and lather up your head, face and neck with the shaving cream." "Yes, Master," boy responds. I put down the toilet seat, sit, and watch boy apply the lather to his head, face and neck. "Get over here in front of the mirror and shave your head, face and neck" I instruct him. "Yes, Master," boy responds as he walks over to the sink counter and faces the mirror. Boy has shaved like this countless times since I have had him with me. I watch him turn on the hot water tap, open the top drawer on the sink counter and pick up one of disposable safety razors. I keep a supply of disposable safety razors in that drawer and another supply on the shelf next to the shower head. Starting at the back of his head, he effortlessly applies the safety razor, using short strokes, rinsing the razor frequently under the hot tap water. He does this until he has shaved the entire left side of his head. He throws the safety razor in the trash can, picks up a fresh razor from the drawer and repeats the process on the right side of his head. When he has finished shaving his head, leaving only the strip of hair down the middle of his head, he throws the razor into the trash, gets a new one and proceeds to shave the left side of his face. In about fifteen minutes he has finished shaving both sides of his face and his neck. During all this time, I think he has ignored the throbbing pain from the welts on his ass. "Into the shower, boy." I instruct him. "Rinse off your body, turn off the shower, and lather up your chest, abs and legs with the shaving cream. You will not shave your ass today." "Yes, Master." Boy walks into the shower area. In less than two minutes boy has rinsed his body and coated the entire front of his body and his legs with the shaving soap. "Now, boy, starting with your arm pits, shave your body. I do not want one hair left when you are through. Your body is to be as smooth as the skin on a new baby. Understood?" "Yes, Master," he responds as he picks up one of the disposable razors, lifts his left arm over his head, and starts shaving his arm pit. Again, he has done this full body shave every day for weeks. I watch him shave his arm pit, step to the side, turn on the shower, rinse the razor, and proceed to shave his right arm pit. I think he is being extra careful this morning. He shaves a small area, rubs his fingers across the shaved area, and sometimes shaves the same area a second time. Watching boy shave his body is not only pleasurable for me, that it certainly is, but, somehow, very satisfying. Boy gets a fresh razor three times, throwing the used razor into the trash can in the corner of the shower area. After little more than a half hour, he has shaved both legs and stands under the shower. "Get all the soap off, boy," I tell him. "Then get your body dry with a towel and assume the kneeling position in front of me" Boy rinses away the soap under the shower, turns the shower off, picks up a towel from the rack, dries his body, drops the towel and kneels at my feet, his hands around his ankles. I run the palms of my hand methodically over his body, starting with his head and down to his caged cock. "Very good, boy," I tell him. "Your skin is as smooth as silk. Now, tell me what you want and need to worship every day." "Master," he responds, "I worship your cock, Master. I want to worship your cock, Master." "You may worship my cock now, boy. Take my cock out of my pants and show it the depth of your devotion." I lean back as boy brings his hands up and unzips my pants. I have my jock underwear on so he has to pry the fly open with his fingers. I feel his fingers gently grasp the middle of my cock. When he has my cock out, he puts his hands back on his ankles, leans his head forward and starting at its base, begins kissing my cock. My cock hardens as I feel his tongue lick its underside. I let boy continue the devotional ministration of his lips and tongue for several l minutes, enjoying the blissful sensation flowing from my cock. I stand up and boy leans back, his eyes remaining focused on my cock. I put my cock in my pants and zip up. "Follow me into the den, boy," I tell him. I walk into the den, boy behind me. "Kneel over there, boy," I tell him, pointing to a space in the middle of the den floor with my finger. Boy walks to the middle of the room and kneels, putting his hands on his ankles, but struggles to keep his ass from touching the carpet. He keeps his head down, and I guess he knows there will be no I-pod games. I sit at my desk and power up my computer. I see several messages from my firm in the in-box and one from my friend, Howie. I am quickly and pleasantly engrossed in dealing with the business e-mail. I have taken care of all the business e-mail and open the message from Howie. "Jake, I will be at your place between 3:00 and 4:00 in the afternoon a week from this Friday. I was wondering how I was going to take care of my boy's natural functions while there, but that you have a big back yard with trees and privacy works beautifully to meet boy's needs. I will bring with me the pooper-scooper I use at my place. I am eager to have many long discussions with you exploring our mutual experience as Masters. I know we will have a good and fun time. Your friend, Howie." I sit back after reading the message. I have seen pictures of boy-dogs pissing and shitting outside. I picture in my mind Howie taking his dog slave into my backyard for a 'dog walk'. I wonder if Howie has trained his boy to lift his leg to piss - I expect he has - and my cock thickens a little at the prospect of watching dog-boy piss against a tree. I type out my response to Howie. "Howie, A week from this Friday will be the beginning of a memorable, fruitful and exciting weekend. Like you, I want to explore our mutual experience. Who knows, we may open vistas for each other that will make the relationship we each have with our slave-boy even richer and more stimulating. I am excited just thinking about watching what you do with your pooper-scooper. I and boy will warmly greet you and your boy when you arrive a week from Friday. And not just by the way, bring with you whatever you need. I have plenty of room, and boy can do the work of getting it in and out of your vehicle. Your friend, Jake." I push the send button. I look forward to a week from Friday like a kid yearns for Christmas. I look over at boy. I think he is a little uncomfortable, but he has his ass on the carpet. I open the work-out program on my computer and fill in the weights and sets we will do this afternoon. I send the schedules to the printer and power off the computer. I pick up the print-outs and get to my feet. "Get up, boy," I say. "We are going to do our daily workout." Boy follows me to the workout room and kneels next to the treadmill. I take off my clothes, pull on my gym shorts and sit in the chair. After putting on my socks and gym shoes, I stand up. "Put on your socks and shoes, boy" I say, "while I warm up."" I start to walk the treadmill watching the pained expression on boy's face as he slowly lowers his ass to the floor. I finish the warm-up and step off the treadmill. Boy has his shoes on and is back on his knees. "Stand up, boy. Get on the treadmill. Set the program to twenty minutes, level 3." Boy starts walking the treadmill as I check my routine on the clipboard. Today we will do full body using dumbbells. I finish the first exercise and look over at boy. He is in a light trot, and sweat is beginning to bead on his chest and back. I miss watching his cock swing as he trots, but his stripped ass has its own appeal for me. I only do one set of each exercise, and I am through in less than forty-five minutes and boy is on his knees next to the treadmill. "Stand up, boy," I tell him. "Check your schedule and start doing the exercises." He can do all the exercises standing up except two - the dumbbell chest press and the sitting shoulder press. I watch him work out, my arms folded on my chest, giving him verbal nudges to correct his form or his speed. Upon completion of the required two sets, boy checks off the exercise on the log sheet. The expression on his face tells me that he is enjoying himself. In over a little more than hour, boy has completed all the exercises. Boy checks off the last exercise. "You did good, boy," I tell him. "Now bend over and take off your shoes and socks. Then go to the kitchen and prepare us each a protein smoothie. Put in pecans, the fresh blackberries and two bananas." "Master, thank you" boy responds. No doubt glad that he is not required to sit on his tender ass to take off his shoes. I watch boy, his back glistening with sweat, walk out towards the kitchen. I pick up my pants and shoes, and still wearing my gym shorts and gym shoes, walk into my bedroom and put the clothes on the clothes horse next to my dresser. I walk to the kitchen. Boy is slicing a banana into the blender when I walk in. Hearing me come into the kitchen, boy hastily turns around and kneels, knife in one hand and banana in the other. I chuckle at the humorous but pleasing sight. "Get up, boy," I tell him as I give him a smile. "Finish preparing the smoothies." "Yes, Master," boy responds as he gets to his feet. I sit in my chair at the kitchen table. While boy puts the remaining ingredients into the blender, I appreciate, again, the erotic beauty created by the pattern of red welts on his milky-white ass. Boy runs the blender and fills two large glasses full with the creamy mixture. Boy walks over and puts one glass on the table in front of me. Before he puts down the second glass I tell him "Stay standing while you drink the smoothie." "Yes, Master. Thank you, Master," he responds and then waits until I start drinking. I put the glass to my lips and take two long, but slow swallows and boy gulps down over half of his glass. I give him a smile, and while I savor the milky liquid in my glass, he quickly drains his glass. Boy remains standing, his arms to his side, holding the empty glass in one hand. I drink the last of the smoothie and put my glass down on the table. "Good job, boy," I tell him. "I enjoyed that smoothie. Now clean up the kitchen and when you have finished that, go to the master bath. You can piss and if you need to, empty your bowels but do not flush the toilet. Take a shower to get the sweat off your body and use plenty of soap to clean your ass." "Yes, Master," boy responds. He picks up the empty glasses and walks to the kitchen-sink counter. I stretch my legs out and enjoy the sight of his beautifully patterned ass as he washes the blender and puts the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Finishing the cleaning, boy walks out of the kitchen to the master bath. I take off my gym shoes and socks and walk out to the workout room, strip off my gym shorts and put them and the shoes next to the chair. I walk into the master bath. Boy is showering. His ass well soaped and the fingers of his right hand gingerly pressing into his ass crack. I look into the toilet. As I expected, boy had no bowel movement, but the water has a soft yellow color as a result of his piss. I empty my bladder and flush the toilet. I watch boy rinse the soap from his body, turn off the shower, take a towel from the rack and dry his body. When he has his legs dry, he kneels at my feet. I run my hand over his head as I walk into the shower area. The warm water sooths my muscles, but I only take enough time showering to get the sweat off. I turn off the shower. Boy, still kneeling, has a clean towel draped over his arms. I pick up the towel and dry my upper body. I sense that boy is especially attentive as he dries my back and spends a little extra time gently massaging my balls in the towel. After boy kisses the tip of my cock, I pick up the bottle of lubricant that is on the sink counter and tell boy to follow me into the bedroom. When I reach the edge of my bed, I turn around. "Get onto the bed, boy," I tell him before he has time to kneel. "On your knees with your ass up." "Yes, Master," boy responds, putting his knees on the edge of the bed. He leans forward onto his elbows and raises his hips. Presenting his ass like this has always been a turn-on for me, but this morning the site of his red-striped ass has a special erotic appeal causing my cock to become rock hard. I savor the site for a few minutes as I imagine Howie fucking his dog-boy. A dog, after all, cannot be on its back to be fucked. A dog has to be on its paws and mounted from the rear. I open the bottle of lubricant and squeeze some of the thick liquid into the palm of my hand and lubricate my cock. I get between boy's legs and put the bottle at the top of boy's ass crack. Boy winces as I put my other hand on his ass cheek and pull it back exposing his rose bud. I squeeze just enough of the thick liquid out of the bottle to drip down the ass crack without dripping onto the bed. I take my hand away from boy's ass, put the cap back on the lubricant bottle, and put the bottle on the floor. Placing my hands on boy's hips, I press my cock into his ass crack. I feel the tip of my cock touch his rose bud, and with one swift lunge, I push the entire length of my cock into his warm confines. Boy gasps and his body jerks with the sudden intrusion. I start fucking boy in earnest maintaining a fast in and out pace without pausing. In less than two or three minutes, I feel the imminence of orgasm. I pause and lay my chest on boy's back and put my lips next to his ear. "You are pleasing me, boy," I whisper as I resume the fast-paced fucking. Within moments, I am panting in orgasmic ecstasy as my cock explodes. I wait a minute or so to let my cock deflate, enjoying the after-glow of orgasm. I pull my cock out of his ass and step back. There is a small amount of my cream oozing out of boy's rose bud. I let boy stay in the kneeling position on the bed as I take my clothes from the clothes horse next to my dresser and get dressed. "Get up, boy," I tell him. Boy slides his legs off the bed and stands up. He turns around and starts to kneel but I stop him by putting my arms around his back and hug him into my chest. "Boy, you are a wonderful and most pleasing fuck" I tell him. He raises his head and I give him a long and deep kiss. I lean my head back after the kisses and tell him " No tasks or chores for the rest of the afternoon, boy, just a relaxing afternoon in the den."