Date: Tue, 15 Aug 2023 20:31:08 +0000 (UTC)
From: Ash Eater <locked_london@yahoo.com>
Subject: perfect muscle god c. 19

The slave groaned as shuffled on its knees trying to not get too stiff. Its
dick was hardening inside his leather trousers, in anticipation of what lay
ahead.

It was waiting for its Master, its handsome, arrogant all powerful
MuscleGod Master . The only thoughts it had were of Him, and the need to
serve. It began to think about the last year and how it had fallen deeper
and deeper under its Master's control. How just the thought of MuscleGod
was enough for it to imagine falling to its knees and start
worshipping. These thoughts would fill its day, dominate its dreams. It was
truly under His control

As it waited it considered everything that made Him all powerful.


The way that he looked. His handsome face, the way that it could change in
a flash from stern to gentle. His perfect sculpted body the way that it
towered over him when in the midst of an intense muscle worship session
Close up it could see every ripple in His perfect muscle. How each muscle
appeared to have been carved from the finest imperfection free marble. The
way that his body hair laid against his skin,. The power that he exuded
when standing still just a single look at the slave beneath him enough to
let it know where to move its attention to next. The way that he smiled
when catching a view of his body in the mirror before reminding the slave
of how lucky it was to be owned and controlled by him, rewarding it with a
stream of spit as it agreed.

The way that he transformed from its perfect MuscleGod, to perfect Leather
God. Standing out from all the other leathermen that he was with no matter
how big the crowd. The slave only had eyes for him . Only he exuded the
authority and power that kept it in a state of submission . Other than
serving and submitting to MuscleGod the only thing that came any closer to
making it happy was seeing other men give up the pretence of being Alphas
and accepting his power.

The way that He smelt, the way that He tasted. His sweat was like nectar to
the slave, pure testosterone . It provided nourishment and fed its desire
to submit and just exist for its Master's pleasure. A submission only
deepen when surrounded by a cloud of its Master's cigar smoke, waiting to
be blessed by cigar infused spit, or still warm ash on its tongue. It
existed only to be a vessel for these gifts, a sign that his Master saw it
for what it was an object for His use.

The waves of happiness and joy that spread through its brain and body as it
made contact with MuscleGod's flesh could only be understood by someone who
had also submitted to a superior Man, but that feeling would only go part
way to what it felt when making contact with its Master. No matter how long
it spent worshipping the perfectly formed body, caressing the muscles as He
transitioned from one pose to another. Chanting his mantra of "MuscleGod
you control me" it was never enough.

The sensation of submitting and worshipping His boots, accepting the
natural order as it lay on the floor, He towering above only partly
recognising its presence.

The way that His power was made clear when one boot ground into its back as
it concentrated on worshipping the other. The way that the scent of His
leather trousers overwhelmed its sense as it made its way up to its Owner's
groin. Even encased in leather it knew that what was beneath was
perfection. A weapon that had regularly destroyed his throat.

It had spent hours over the year kneeling gazing at it, smelling it tasting
it. Its throat had been destroyed, and moulded, night after night. Not just
his throat, it could close its eyes anytime it wanted and have a vision of
MuscleGod fucking the holes of a half dozen men. The screams as he invaded
their butts giving way to animalistic grunts of pleasure as they realised
no one else would ever satisfy them as he as doing at that moment.

The comfort it had when sucking on MuscleGod's nipples, the joy it had when
inhaling the sweat in his armpits. The mix of terror and happiness that
filled it when MuscleGods gauntlet covered hands gripped his throat, as it
looked upwards, the way that His eyes made it clear that He was in charge,
that He owned it, controlled it, dominated it,

It was then that the slave heard boots coming down the stairs, the smell of
cigar getting stronger with each step. The slave got into position hands
behind its straight back and head bowed. All it could see now was a pair of
Dehners approach. Even looking down the slave could sense its Master's
power. A ball of ash fell to the floor followed by a stream of spit. It
resisted the instinctive urge to fall and swallow now wasn't the time. It
was here not to for its own pleasure but for His.

It felt a hard at the back of its head, gripping its hair. Its head was
pulled back, as it did he glimpsed the perfect leather clad body of
MuscleGod as its eyes moved up from the boots , his legs, to the Muir cap
covered cap covered head. "Its Muscle God , its Master" His hands moved its
head so it was now at eye level with His groin. It watched as the fly was
unzipped and MuscleGod pulled out his dick. Only semi hard for now but
powerful nonetheless.

Finally MuscleGod began to speak, as he moved closer to the slave

That throat better be ready to be ruined boy.