Home Post 7201-chapter-51


Chapter 51.

Morning chats: Dylan and Tommy; Tyler speaks up to Peter.

Dylan and Tommy

Tommy doesn’t really understand what is happening to him, but ever since they’ve been talking about their relationship and how their friends think that are actually Master and slave, he is beginning to see Dylan differently. It isn’t that he loves him any less; if anything, he loves him even more, but the fact that Dylan willingly thinks of him as his Master is awakening feelings within him that he has always had, he guesses, but that are rising to the surface in ways that are frightening him. He is not a violent person; he never has been. The only time he has ever been violent has been when it was necessary to protect Dylan from a bully or from someone who was trying to harm him.

But now? He’s only done high-impact things with Dylan because Dylan asked–no, begged–for it. But last night he had a dream in which he was flogging Dylan with the rawhide flogger and Dylan kept screaming “I love you. Please, more.” and he could see the boy’s entire body writhing under the blows and the sight of it all, and how the red marks were appearing on his body, was the sexiest thing he has ever seen. He woke up aroused. and rolled over on top of Dylan and rutted himself against the boy until he spilled his cum all over him and in his half-awake voice he grunted to Dylan “I fucking own you.” Then he ran his hand through the semen he had spilled on the boy and put his hand to dylan’s mouth and Dylan licked his hand clean and then slipped under the covers to clean Tommy’s cock off with his tongue. ‘Yes, you fucking own me. I’ve been telling you that. I want you so bad, Tommy, I want you to write on my flesh and make me sob for you so I can show you how much I love you that you can do things to me that no other person would ever be able to do. Please, sweetheart, please don’t hold back any more. I was just dreaming that you were whipping me and it was the greatest thing I had ever felt. Come on, baby. Whip me until I cum in my cage for you!”

Tommy is astounded that Dylan basically had the same dream that he did, and he feared he was losing control but he went to the closet and got manacles and clips and the flogger and he tied Dylan down spread=eagled on the bed and took the flogger and worked it gently over the boy’s back and ass until he grew red and Dylan kept groaning and saying “thank you, Master.” and Tommy kept it up and started striking him harder and harder and he could see welts appearing but still he wouldn’t stop because Dylan kept yelling “Whip your slave. Claim me as yours. I love you, Tommy!” and Tommy didn’t stop until Dylan has a pattern of crisscrossed welts across his back and his ass, and he kept hitting him until Dylan screamed out that he was cumming and then finally he stopped, out of breath, and he looked down upon dylan’s whipped body and it seemed to him to be the most beautiful sight he had ever beheld. And he went and snapped a picture of it with his phone so he could show Dylan and Dylan cried to see it. Cried for happiness.

Tommy set him free from his bonds and rolled him over. Dylan screamed again as his whipped flesh made contact with the sheets. Tommy went down and began to suck the cum from dylan’s cage—something he had never done before, but now all of a sudden he had a craving to taste what it was he had whipped out of his slave. Yes, slave. Tommy was hard and leaking, and using his pre-cum as lubricant he thrust himself into dylan’s body and ravaged him more intensely than he had ever fucked before while Dylan keeps screaming “yes, yes, yes. Take your slave! Breed me, Tommy!” Finally, he had a second release and collapsed on top of Dylan, who squirmed around and began to kiss him, and Tommy poured his juices into dylan’s mouth and Dylan drank greedily from him and hugged him, clinging to him as if he were clinging to life itself.

Tommy fell off him and the two lay side by side, breathing heavily, and both of them were crying. and hugging, and crying and hugging. Finally, when they had calmed down, Tommy went to get ointment to put on dylan’s whipped body and he worshipped Dylan with the ointment and touched every single place his whip had touched while Dylan groaned and cooed and kept telling Tommy how much he loved him and how grateful he was for what Tommy had just done to him.

After he had done this, Tommy lay down on the bed again and Dylan nestled himself in his arms, clinging to him as if he were afraid that Tommy would disappear, clinging with love and with need and with devotion to this boy-man who ruled his life with gentleness, affection, devotion and protectiveness.

As Tommy lay there with Dylan in his arms, the tug-of-war in his brain began once again. Slave?. He takes care of Dylan; he doesn’t rule him. He gives Dylan what he needs, whatever it may be, but he doesn’t have any sadistic impulses within him, even when he took the flogger to Dylan and saw him squirm and cry out underneath the blows of the whip. No. When he did that, he wss taking care of his beloved, in a strange way perhaps, in a way that a great many people would simply not be able to understand, but in a way that they both understand and that they both celebrate from time to time. He gives Dylan what he needs. He gives Dylan what he asks for. He gives Dylan what it is his wounded nature cries out for, and if the day ever comes when those needs have gone away, when Dylan didn’t urgently cry out for the sting of the lash, then he would gladly put those things away and move on to the next stage of their love for each other.

But how can he convince Dylan of this? How can he help Dylan understand that he cannot see him as a slave, that he cannot treat him like a slave the way their other friends are playing. He looks at Dylan and sees the same tender, helpless, needy little boy he was when he was hiding in the playground, 8 years old, looking into Tommy’s eyes with hope that Tommy would be the one who would rescue from the hell his life had been up until that point, that Tommy would tell him a story that was very different than the story that was being beaten into him at home, that Tommy wasn’t like Dylan’s brothers, that Tommy was the angel God was sending to him to rescue him. And when Tommy knelt down next to him and said “hi, my name is Tommy and I want to be your friend,” Dylan could hardly understand what he was saying, so foreign to him those words were in his wretched experience. But when Tommy took him by the hand and stood up and helped him up off the ground, Tommy had pulled him into a new dimension of existence. That existence was what they had to celebrate now. Neither of them had the ancient words, and probably neither of them could understand the ancient words, but on a mystical level of their existence the words were being spoken into both their souls: “Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one, and come.” And Dylan stood up and Tommy kept holding his hand as they walked from the playground back into the school and, surprisingly enough, none of their classmates laughed at them because it was a common thing for the boys to “buddy up” when standing in line so often. And from that moment on, none of the other boys ever attempted to separate them, and as they all grew up through the years, there were always new expressions of the bond between them, and it was always respected, always admired, almost envied by some perhaps, but never ever denigrated or mocked, except by the wretched people Dylan was forced to live with because of some sardonic twist of fate.

Suddenly, Tommy had an idea. He kisses Dylan again on his lips and on his cheeks and on that spot below his right ear that causes Dylan to giggle like the little boy he remember so fondly. He says to Dylan, “if you could do anything with me that you want the most, what would it be?” Dylan lays his head on Tommy’s chest and sighs. ‘Just to stay here with you like this until it’s time for peeing and showers and breakfast, but can we just stay here for a bit longer, Sir?”

“Of course we can, sweetheart. As long as you want. But I want you to realize something”

“What is that?”

“That if you were really my slave, do you know what would happen right now?”
“What, Sir?”

“I would kick you off the bed and make you crawl into the kitchen to make my breakfast, and when it was ready I’d go in there and pour you a bowl of dry cheerios and put it on the floor with a bowl of water and make you eat that like a puppy on the floor for your breakfast while I enjoyed the one you cooked for your Master, and after that was over, I’d make you clean the kitchen and then crawl back into the bedroom and make the bed while I took my own shower, and when that was done, I’d order you to just grovel on the floor and stay there until I had something else for you to do. And from that point on, you’d have to earn any affection you ever got from me, and you would no longer have any permission to ask me for it. That’s how you’d live as my slave, boy.”

Dylan grows silent and thinks for a while. Finally, he snuggles into Tommy’s neck and licks him a bit and whispers, “I’m not really your slave, am I, Tommy?” “No, baby. You’re not really my slave and I’m not really your Master. You are my beloved and I am the one who cares for you and who will soon promise to take care of you and make you happy for the rest of our lives. That’s who you are and that’s who I am, and if we sometimes use those other words, it’s just to play ‘pretend.’ What we have, my love, glistens like a diamond, a diamond with many many facets, and will never ever be worn down.”

“Even when I need you to be rough with me?”

“Even when you need me to be rough with you. Because it is only for a little bit of time, and then we snuggle ourselves back into the awesome love we share and it covers us like a sweet gentle cocoon and we emerge beautiful with love shining in our eyes and in our hearts.”

“Sweetheart, you’re being so poetic with me. I’ve got feelings flowing through my body that are making me so very happy, so very much in love with you, and I am beginning to think that maybe there are some special and beautiful things around the corner for us.”

“That’s right, my adorable kinky love-child. So what I think is around the corner for us right now is bathroom, peeing, showering, breakfast and then maybe more cuddles.”

Tommy gets out of bed and holds out his hand to help Dylan, who is moving a little painfully because of what happened earlier. Tommy looks him over again and blows his breath on dylan’s back which makes the boy shiver a bit. They go into the bathroom. Dylan sits on the toilet and pees through his cage. Tommy stands over him and pees on dylan’s cage as a way of washing out the remains of his orgasm. Dylan loves it when Tommy does this, and he looks up and smiles at his lover. When Tommy is almost finished Dylan leans forward and takes his dick into his mouth to suck out what remains and then kisses his balls as well. Tommy messes up his hair. “My kinky sweet boy,” he says. “I’ll spray you in the shower because I don’t want to get any water on your back right now. Let the ointment do its job.” He gets the water to the right temperature and has Dylan stand on the other side of the shower so he can spray him and soap him up in front with the new body wash he bought the other day. He loves using his hands to wash Dylan, especially when he reaches down to the boy’s balls and plays with them a bit, much to dylan’s delight. Then he washes himself totally, and his hair. “Let’s not wash your hair today, babe, I don’t want to get you wet in back. But let me wash your ass with a washcloth.” He takes the washcloth and had Dylan turn around and bend over as much as he can without hurting himself, and then he lovingly and gently washes his crack and hole, tickling it a bit with his finger. The he kneels down to washes dylan’s feet, and once again he kisses his balls.

All done. Tommy gets a towel for Dylan and wraps it around him, then dries himself as well. They both put on underpants (black boxer briefs) and they go into the kitchen. Tommy makes it a point to take Dylan by the hand again, not wanting any separation between them. “Let me cook breakfast, Tommy, since I don’t want to sit down anyway. How about pancakes, eggs and bacon?” “Sounds good, sweetheart. While you’re doing that, I’m gonna strip the bed and remake it. WE made quite a mess this morning.”

Finally, bed made, breakfast ready, Tommy comes back to the kitchen and Dylan puts a big plate in front of him, gets out the cushion, and kneels next to Tommy so that Tommy can feed him. “I love doing this, you know, not because I’m trying to be a slave but just because I just love it so much when I can eat from your hand. Reminds me of all the times you would pop food into my mouth, like when we were at a carnival. Taking care of me, making me feel so special and so happy.” Tommy cuts up some pieces of pancake so he can feed them to Dylan off the end of his fork. It looks like he feeds Dylan more than he eats himself, and then when some pancake syrup drips out of dylan’s mouth and down his chin, Tommy bends over and licks it from Dylan, then kisses him. “So much better than Cheerios,” he says. “Honey, I don’t even think we have any Cheerios here,” Dylan laughs.

Yes, indeed, the day is starting off on a very good note.


As soon as they wake up, Peter orders tyler into the tub, tells him to keep his eyes closed and his mouth open. “I’ll never make you drink my morning piss,” promises Peter. “It’s dreadful. However, I am going to piss in your mouth a little so you can learn the taste. DO NOT SWALLOW. Just let it fall out of your mouth.

“Yes, Master,” says tyler, and right away Peter can tell that something is off with him. But he hasn’t safeworded, so Peter proceeds the way he wants to. He bathes the kneeling slave’s body with his piss and does piss in its mouth until it overflows. tyler makes an awful face when he tastes it.

Peter fixes the water temp for the shower and lets it flow over the slave’s piss-stained body. “Lay on your back,” he commands, then gets in the shower himself and washes his hair and body as usual, ignoring the fact that there is a slave lying on the bottom of the tub. The soapy water spilling off Peter’s body is enough to clean the slave. “Use your hands and wash yourself in my dirty water like the pig you are,” he demands. tyler obeys, but again, there’s a listlessness that’s concerning him.

Peter gets out of the shower which means the slave can stand and finish its own shower. Peter dries off and tosses his wet towel to the slave so it can manage to get dry with it. “Not wasting fresh towels on my faggot,” he says to the boy. Usually this would turn tyler on, but it’s clear that something is off. “When you get done, crawl inside to me and start licking my feet. When I’d done with you down there I have something to discuss with you.”

“Yes, Master,” says tyler, trying not to appear as upset as he really is. He truly fears this might be the end of their arrangement so soon into their turn together. He crawls to his Master and begins licking his clean feet and sucking his toes the way Peter likes and he finds this consoling.

Peter speaks to the slave. “Something is bothering you. As soon as we woke up I knew something is off with you. You’re going to tell me what’s going on. Be prepared to tell me the total truth or I’ll end up beating it out of you, slaveboy. Let’s get started now. I want you to lie on your back on the couch with your head in my lap.” tyler gets into position.

Peter starts running his hands over the boy’s face and down to his nipples to give them a bit of attention. “Open your mouth,” he says, and then lets a big glob of spit fall from his lips into the slave’s mouth. “Do you understand what you are to me, boy? Do you understand I’m training you sexually and also mentally to be the lowlife faggot slave I want to turn you into?”

tyler starts to cry. “Peter, I don’t think I can do this. I don’t think I’m strong enough. I don’t want to leave you or disappoint you but I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to please you the way you want to be pleased. I’m not sure I can be your slave, not the way you want.” He turns over a little and starts weeping into the bottom of Peter’s t-shirt since Peter has already gotten dressed.

“Am I the problem, baby?” Peter gets affectionate with him.

“No, Sir. I’m the problem. I’m not tough enough.”

“You’re not tough enough in what way, boy? I’m not going to get upset with you or punish you. I want you to be able to reveal what’s on your mind whenever necessary. Like now when you’re so upset. There’s something you’ve been holding on to since last night. I don’t think it started this morning, but rather it began last night and when you woke up today you were already backing off from me. You might be right, tyler. Maybe you can’t be the slave I want. If you can’t tell me what’s going on, then you’re right. But if you can tell me, no matter what it is, we can work it out. I’d be a pretty lousy Master if I couldn’t pay close attention to what’s going on with my slave. So talk to me, pup. Tell me what started you off doubting yourself the way you are. Get down off me now, tyler. On the floor. Sit back, legs spread. Take a few deep breaths and tell me what’s got you doubting yourself.”

“Master, I can’t open my throat enough for you. I failed you last night. I just couldn’t open enough for all of you without gagging or choking. I panicked, failing you the way I did.”

“You didn’t fail me at all, tyler. Listen, I don’t care if I can never get my cock all the way down your throat. That doesn’t matter. You’re jumping to conclusions as to what I’m after.”

“But you had to work so hard to force me to take it, Master. And I failed.”

“tyler, listen to me: you did not fail. You did just fine. I shot a big load down your throat, didn’t I, boy?”

“Yes, Master, but all I kept doing was gagging and choking and I was afraid you’d get mad that I was no good at it.”

Peter chuckles a little. “Forgive me for chuckling, tyler, but this is ironic. You just don’t understand how you’re able to please my cock. You did just fine. Yes, I made you gag, and yes, I made you choke. That’s as far as you need to go with me, slave. I get off on hearing you gag. I get off on hearing you choke. Those sounds tell me how much power I have, how much I can fuck your mouth with my cock. Those sounds tell me that you’re surrendering to me the way a good slave should. You did not disappoint me, tyler. I don’t want you to be able to deep throat me. That’s boring, boy. But I do expect you to suffer for me and to accept what my cock does to you. I expect you to gag. I expect you to choke. Some time you might actually vomit from my cock’s onslaught. It’s all fine, boy. It’s all what I want from my slave. You served my cock last night just as well as you serve my toes, boy. Can you understand that?”

“So I make you happy if I gag or choke, Master?”

“Yes you do. That’s what I want. That’s how I know how much I own you, possess you, and break past your limits.”

tyler sits there for a while thinking. Finally he bends down to the ground and kisses Peter’s feet.

“I want to keep you, boy. And I fucking own your throat. You surrendered it to me last night exactly the way I wanted you to. You didn’t fight me off. You took what I was doing to you without running away. Damn, you didn’t even safeword.”

“I could have safeworded, Master?”

“Any time, slaveboy. Perhaps it would have been good for you to call yellow and I would have backed off a bit. That’s what I think you needed. You needed for me to lighten up some because it was starting to frighten you.”

“yes, Master, I was very frightened.”

“So, next time, safeword before you get to that point. There is no reason I ever want you to be frightened from anything we do together. With one exception: when I have you bound and I’m getting ready to punish you or whip you, then of course, you’ll be frightened before it begins. That’s only natural. It’s also part of the punishment sometimes. But I get the impression that I’m not going to have to punish you much, boy. You are a very good boy and you have all the makings of becoming a total slave. My total slave. My property.”

“Your property, Master? I want that.”

“I know you do, boy. So from now on learn to communicate. That’s what your safewords are for, boy.”

“Yes, Master.”

“So do you feel better now?”

“Yes, Master. Thank you for helping this slave understand.”

“Good boy.” Peter stands up and takes out his cock. “Now be a good faggot and get your mouth over here to drink my piss, slave.”

tyler surrenders to its Master’s wishes. There isn’t much piss to swallow so soon after Peter had taken his morning piss. It’s just the symbolism of the thing that’s important. It’s just the sign of the slave’s surrender to the Master who is training him.

“Now go brush your teeth and then fix my breakfast. Scrambled eggs and bacon. Make a lot cause you’ll get to eat the same thing after I’m done having my breakfast. While I’m eating, you can get under the table and suck my feet again like the slave you know you want to be.”

So that’s what happens. “Put all the eggs on one plate,” Peter instructs the boy, who does as told. Peter gets his coffee and sits down to eat. The slave serves the Master’s feet while he’s eating. After Peter is done, he takes the plate (which still has eggs on it and even a little piece of bacon) and puts it on the floor in the corner.

“Go have your breakfast, slave. When done, clean up in here then crawl to my office and wait for me.”

“Yes, Master,” says tyler, realizing how amazingly intense its humiliation as it crawls to the plate to suck up its Master’s leftovers. Peter watches for a while, enjoying the sight, then gets up from the table and goes to his office to make a couple phone calls.