The slave has been indisposed for five days. I let him out to work and then lock him up again before dinner. I fuck him two or three times a day and whip his ass for nothing but getting a hard on. He's been locked in his belt for two weeks so he's fuckin horny when I want him.
I'm sure and don't care what he thinks of this but I like it.
Showing posts with label cum dump. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cum dump. Show all posts
Monday, February 2, 2015
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
Mind Reading
It seems sometimes that Master is able to read my mind, especially when it comes to sex and play.
One afternoon while working in my studio, I had a sudden urge for Master to strap me down very tightly on the Australian whipping and gag me so that communicating would be painful beside entirely useless. I thought I would like to be left for a long period of time to die the thousand deaths, wondering how intense the session would get and building fearful anticipation and regret for consenting to the coming punishment. My desire slid into the pit of my stomach because I knew that if I could think it that Master would eventually do it.
I laid a strip of Prussian Blue on my palette and began to mix it with another shade of blue when Master appeared from behind the canvas. He told me to clean up and meet him in the dungeon. I did as he ordered and the crossed the drive in the rain to meet him. He stood looking stern and irked that I had taken so long. He grabbed my nipples and lifted me off the ground by them. "When I tell you to meet me somewhere I don't want any dallying, do you understand?"
Master strapped me to the bench, stretching me and tightening and retightening straps until the position became almost intolerable and the straps felt like they would cut into my flesh. He gagged me with what looks like a ball gag from the outside but has a pecker gag pushing to the back of the throat. Everything went as I fantasized in my momentary day dream. Master fucked me and cum dumped in my ass the pulled out and let it dribble down the inside of my legs.
Master pulled his belt from the loops of his jeans and folded it over. He showed it to me and told me to smell it. "It smells like leather and your blood, doesn't it boy!" He pulled it away from my nose and raised it in the air above his head and swung full arm, sending it crashing down on my butt. Beatings like this are hellish, they are given for no other reason than for his own pleasure. He beats me and then fucks me then beats me more. In the end, when the endorphins are beginning to subside, the beatings are gratifying. Tear stains show Master that he has worked his magic. The hugs and kisses once I am released are proof that I am thankful that I belong to him.
One afternoon while working in my studio, I had a sudden urge for Master to strap me down very tightly on the Australian whipping and gag me so that communicating would be painful beside entirely useless. I thought I would like to be left for a long period of time to die the thousand deaths, wondering how intense the session would get and building fearful anticipation and regret for consenting to the coming punishment. My desire slid into the pit of my stomach because I knew that if I could think it that Master would eventually do it.
I laid a strip of Prussian Blue on my palette and began to mix it with another shade of blue when Master appeared from behind the canvas. He told me to clean up and meet him in the dungeon. I did as he ordered and the crossed the drive in the rain to meet him. He stood looking stern and irked that I had taken so long. He grabbed my nipples and lifted me off the ground by them. "When I tell you to meet me somewhere I don't want any dallying, do you understand?"
Master strapped me to the bench, stretching me and tightening and retightening straps until the position became almost intolerable and the straps felt like they would cut into my flesh. He gagged me with what looks like a ball gag from the outside but has a pecker gag pushing to the back of the throat. Everything went as I fantasized in my momentary day dream. Master fucked me and cum dumped in my ass the pulled out and let it dribble down the inside of my legs.
Master pulled his belt from the loops of his jeans and folded it over. He showed it to me and told me to smell it. "It smells like leather and your blood, doesn't it boy!" He pulled it away from my nose and raised it in the air above his head and swung full arm, sending it crashing down on my butt. Beatings like this are hellish, they are given for no other reason than for his own pleasure. He beats me and then fucks me then beats me more. In the end, when the endorphins are beginning to subside, the beatings are gratifying. Tear stains show Master that he has worked his magic. The hugs and kisses once I am released are proof that I am thankful that I belong to him.
Monday, August 4, 2014
My Slave Is Not In Any Condition To Write
You asked about bring a object slave.
This is what it is all about. The boy has a marker buried in his body that can be used to track him down any where he goes. Yah, he can run but he cannot hide. The thing is, he does not have any reason to run so he can go any where he wants as long as I know where and with whom he goes. Truthfully, the only thing he does alone is run. I can sprint fast, may be some two hundred meters but the boy runs like Mercury kilometer after kilometer until his body suddenly quits.
I played a game without him knowing what I was planning. He was out running and I tracked him down and headed him off. He came running toward me and I stopped him. Christopher jumped out of the truck and we man handled him, talking to each other like we caught a run-away. We ignored the boy, gagged him, hand cuffed and chained him in the back seat of the truck and took him home.
We strung him up in the barn and beat him, telling him he was going to learn to never try to run again. We took turns beating him. He was screaming and crying but there aren't any safe words with us. He was sore and red as a cherry when we got done with him. We tied the boy to a post in that barn so he couldn't slide down to rest and left him there, standing, naked with nothing but a clothes peg on the end of his wee little shrunken cock. We went back to torture him before we locked him in a cage for the night. We worked his genitals over with a zap stick, violet wand and weights tied around his nuts. We jerked and edged him and told him he could shoot and then told him to stop the second he started shooting, but it was too late. I turned him over my knee and gave him a good hand blistering for cumming after I told him to stop, then took him into my bedroom and locked him in his cage, after I fucked his sore arse.
I dragged his arse out of his cage mid-night and forced him to throat my cock then fucked him again.
By that time, he figured out what I was doing to him but I think he knew all along. He just let me know then.
I just kept busting his arse for the next days until I was tired of it. I took the fucker to bed and wrapped around him like he likes, slid myself into him and held him there.
Master Ian
This is what it is all about. The boy has a marker buried in his body that can be used to track him down any where he goes. Yah, he can run but he cannot hide. The thing is, he does not have any reason to run so he can go any where he wants as long as I know where and with whom he goes. Truthfully, the only thing he does alone is run. I can sprint fast, may be some two hundred meters but the boy runs like Mercury kilometer after kilometer until his body suddenly quits.
I played a game without him knowing what I was planning. He was out running and I tracked him down and headed him off. He came running toward me and I stopped him. Christopher jumped out of the truck and we man handled him, talking to each other like we caught a run-away. We ignored the boy, gagged him, hand cuffed and chained him in the back seat of the truck and took him home.
We strung him up in the barn and beat him, telling him he was going to learn to never try to run again. We took turns beating him. He was screaming and crying but there aren't any safe words with us. He was sore and red as a cherry when we got done with him. We tied the boy to a post in that barn so he couldn't slide down to rest and left him there, standing, naked with nothing but a clothes peg on the end of his wee little shrunken cock. We went back to torture him before we locked him in a cage for the night. We worked his genitals over with a zap stick, violet wand and weights tied around his nuts. We jerked and edged him and told him he could shoot and then told him to stop the second he started shooting, but it was too late. I turned him over my knee and gave him a good hand blistering for cumming after I told him to stop, then took him into my bedroom and locked him in his cage, after I fucked his sore arse.
I dragged his arse out of his cage mid-night and forced him to throat my cock then fucked him again.
By that time, he figured out what I was doing to him but I think he knew all along. He just let me know then.
I just kept busting his arse for the next days until I was tired of it. I took the fucker to bed and wrapped around him like he likes, slid myself into him and held him there.
Master Ian
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Miho
We went to the mountains to visit the Miho today. The roads leading into the forests were breathtaking. The museum was crowded with western as well as Japanese tourists.
I love Japanese food, now that I've tried a few things that I was afraid of but I still stick to mostly vegetables and noodles. I'm just not a fan of rice unless it's mixed into something. I had Udon noodles with vegetable broth, garlic chive flowers and boiled egg for breakfast this morning, Ramen noodles with chicken and vegetables at mid-day. The ramen cooks make the noodles by hand. They are definitely different than the stuff we have in the U.S. The broth that they make is a matter of pride and the chefs who specialize in ramen compete with each other.
I hate sushi because of the texture of the Nori and rice but I love sashimi.
We're having some bondage fun over the weekend with a doctor who specialized in medical "torture" scenes. We invited him to dine with us in the hotel and then had a drink in our suite. He's an interesting mad who has had body completely covered with tattoo except from the neck up, below the wrists and below the ankles. He is very circumspect about exposing them or showing them off. I wouldn't have seen them either except that he and Master used my holes for a while.
I love Japanese food, now that I've tried a few things that I was afraid of but I still stick to mostly vegetables and noodles. I'm just not a fan of rice unless it's mixed into something. I had Udon noodles with vegetable broth, garlic chive flowers and boiled egg for breakfast this morning, Ramen noodles with chicken and vegetables at mid-day. The ramen cooks make the noodles by hand. They are definitely different than the stuff we have in the U.S. The broth that they make is a matter of pride and the chefs who specialize in ramen compete with each other.
I hate sushi because of the texture of the Nori and rice but I love sashimi.
We're having some bondage fun over the weekend with a doctor who specialized in medical "torture" scenes. We invited him to dine with us in the hotel and then had a drink in our suite. He's an interesting mad who has had body completely covered with tattoo except from the neck up, below the wrists and below the ankles. He is very circumspect about exposing them or showing them off. I wouldn't have seen them either except that he and Master used my holes for a while.
Saturday, May 10, 2014
The Slap the Stinky Slut Game
This was a new game.
I'd finished my morning duties. Master filled my gut with his piss then used my hole for his first fuck of the day. He laid down on me, pinning me down with his weight and strength then slipped the loops of rope that are allows attached to the corner posts of the bed around my wrists. His cock was still stiff inside me. He was grinning and his eyes sparkled.
"YOU FILTHY STINKY SLUT! YEAH! YOU'RE A STINKING FILTHY SLUT." He slapped me across the face twice then called me names again. I felt panic and anger well up inside of me. This treatment harkened memories of my mother and the way she slapped me around from the time I was a toddler. (It was the reason my grandparents took me away from her.) It was an ugly feeling. I fought my tears and looked up into Master's face. It wasn't the crazed angry face that I remembered the last time that I was slapped. It was Master, the person who loves and owns me.
My mind sort of flipped. I no longer felt terror. I started to laugh at the absurdity of the names Master called me. "Yeah sir, you certainly seem to love having this slut around to fuck any time you get the urge. You're the one who turned me into your slut. I was a good little Christian boy before you forced me into the life of perversion that I always dreamed of". And we laughed, I struggled and he slapped me a few times more.
His cock was still hard and he started to fuck me again.
He licked my ears and face, then my neck and tits. He took my cock in his mouth and head fucked his self. He ordered me to cum and then told me not to cum when I got close. He edged me over and over again until I absolutely lost control and shot my load into his mouth. He crawled over me again and forced his tongue into my mouth and spit my load in my mouth.
I learned to control my reactions to a bad memory.
Someone that I recently heard or read said, "You can't control which door people come into your life but you can control which window you throw them out". Sometimes, Master forces me to look inside of myself to find old demons and throw them out. He gives me a safe perch to stand on.
This is just a picture that I found on Pinterest. It's a picture of an Egret in the midst of a mating ritual.
I've been searching for Heron pictures for a tattoo.
What do you think of this?
I'd finished my morning duties. Master filled my gut with his piss then used my hole for his first fuck of the day. He laid down on me, pinning me down with his weight and strength then slipped the loops of rope that are allows attached to the corner posts of the bed around my wrists. His cock was still stiff inside me. He was grinning and his eyes sparkled.
"YOU FILTHY STINKY SLUT! YEAH! YOU'RE A STINKING FILTHY SLUT." He slapped me across the face twice then called me names again. I felt panic and anger well up inside of me. This treatment harkened memories of my mother and the way she slapped me around from the time I was a toddler. (It was the reason my grandparents took me away from her.) It was an ugly feeling. I fought my tears and looked up into Master's face. It wasn't the crazed angry face that I remembered the last time that I was slapped. It was Master, the person who loves and owns me.
My mind sort of flipped. I no longer felt terror. I started to laugh at the absurdity of the names Master called me. "Yeah sir, you certainly seem to love having this slut around to fuck any time you get the urge. You're the one who turned me into your slut. I was a good little Christian boy before you forced me into the life of perversion that I always dreamed of". And we laughed, I struggled and he slapped me a few times more.
His cock was still hard and he started to fuck me again.
He licked my ears and face, then my neck and tits. He took my cock in his mouth and head fucked his self. He ordered me to cum and then told me not to cum when I got close. He edged me over and over again until I absolutely lost control and shot my load into his mouth. He crawled over me again and forced his tongue into my mouth and spit my load in my mouth.
I learned to control my reactions to a bad memory.
Someone that I recently heard or read said, "You can't control which door people come into your life but you can control which window you throw them out". Sometimes, Master forces me to look inside of myself to find old demons and throw them out. He gives me a safe perch to stand on.
I've been searching for Heron pictures for a tattoo.
What do you think of this?
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Atlas Shrugged
I just finished reading Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. I had to read it in high school. My thoughts about it are radically different now than they were years ago. We've been watching Continuum on Netflix during the past week. Continuum starts out 50 years in the future in a world run by the Corporate Rights Counsel. It is interesting that my media infusions have been about fighting corporate greed.
Ayn Rand was prophetic in describing a world without shortages of resources and ruled by corporations. It seems as if it was based on the break-up of monopolies and cornered markets of the early 1900s. The prophetic part is that companies are building economic and political influences the barely skirt the definition of monopolies.
I witnessed it in my family. Grand Dad and his brother built a small company that grew rapidly after 1955. They bought a failing competitor in state then another across the country. They bought out a company in the UK and then one of the major supplier of parts. They were a family business that kept growing and buying until another larger corporation bought them. They were ready to sell because there was no family except me to take over and I had no interest. The corporation that purchased them also build jets, helicopters, and they own a huge number of other small and large companies. The Corporation is a quiet company with unbelievable holdings and political influence and many Federal contracts, most of them with the Department of Defense. There are so many corporations like this that in my paranoid thought, seem to rule the world which the average person is defenseless. I wonder if we are delusional in thinking we live in the land of the free. We're all slaves in one way or another.
Ayn Rand was prophetic in describing a world without shortages of resources and ruled by corporations. It seems as if it was based on the break-up of monopolies and cornered markets of the early 1900s. The prophetic part is that companies are building economic and political influences the barely skirt the definition of monopolies.
I witnessed it in my family. Grand Dad and his brother built a small company that grew rapidly after 1955. They bought a failing competitor in state then another across the country. They bought out a company in the UK and then one of the major supplier of parts. They were a family business that kept growing and buying until another larger corporation bought them. They were ready to sell because there was no family except me to take over and I had no interest. The corporation that purchased them also build jets, helicopters, and they own a huge number of other small and large companies. The Corporation is a quiet company with unbelievable holdings and political influence and many Federal contracts, most of them with the Department of Defense. There are so many corporations like this that in my paranoid thought, seem to rule the world which the average person is defenseless. I wonder if we are delusional in thinking we live in the land of the free. We're all slaves in one way or another.
I found this picture on tumblr the other day. I printed it and stood it up on Master's computer keyboard. Dan and I both got to try the position out.
Here's how the person who posted it described it:
"I’ve been tied like that — always with a butt plug crammed in my tight fuckhole — and then my man just uses my mouth and cums on my face. Meanwhile, I’m tied up, horny, and hard, and not able to do a thing about it."
It's exactly how it went for us. Master, Butch, Christopher and Pete all joined in to make Dan and me happy
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