Gay Erotic Stories

In the six months since I’d moved to Chicago, I hadn’t been able to find a job. I was at the end of my rope. Finally, I had to go to my landlord Mr. Clint to tell him after living there for only six months, I had to move. I knew I had a year’s lease, but I told him I was desperate, broke and I’d done everything to try to find a job. Mr. Clint seemed very understanding. He said that I really shouldn’t have any trouble finding a job or someone to take care of me, after all I was a very handsome young boy. It was just a matter of time before I would find something. That’s when I confessed to him I really wasn’t really trained do much in the way of office work and stuff like that. Smiling, he asked me if I knew how to cook and clean. I told him that I had taken care of my father’s house for years before he died. Daddy always said I made a real good wife. In fact, the bastard used to fuck me at night when he got lonely, and after a while he seemed to be lonely every night. Smiling brightly, Mr. Clint said he might know of something I could do until things got better for me. He knew his son needed someone to live and work as a houseboy and cook. It paid only minimum wage, but in exchange for a little service work, I would have a free place to stay until I found that job I was looking for. It sounded great and really I had no other place to go. I agreed instantly. Mr. Clint jotted down a short note, then stuffing it into an envelope, he jotted down a name and address on it. He then told me to give it to Mark Clint the manager of the building at that address. Then smiling, he told me Mark was his son and he’d promised to help find a boy like me last year to service him. I asked him what kind of service I’d be required to do, but he just waved his hand saying Mark would teach me to do everything he wanted me to do. Nodding, I accepted his answer and shook hands with him thanking him and left. Walking up along Michigan Ave to the near north side, I marveled at the elegant shops, high rise luxury condos and apartments. I finally found the street I was looking for. Walking a few blocks west, the street with the address intersected and I then found the address he’d given me. Even in the short time I been in Chicago, I knew I was in the gay section. Standing in front of that three-story gray building, it looked like an expensive place. I could see it was a very old but exclusive residential apartment building with its twin bay jutting out, forming an entrance. It looked like an apartment building of a bygone era. Looking up at the name on the gray stone lintel the words Justina Apartments had been carved in classic Caslon. Ringing the bell, I waited on the steps for someone to buzz me in. It took a few seconds, then the buzzer signaled and I could open that heavy oak and glass doors. Stepping into a small tile foyer, I was stopped by another pair of doors. Again I heard the buzzer and this time I entered into the main hall. A big brutish man stood at the end of a long carpeted hallway. He called out, wanting to know what I wanted. His deep voice rang through the hall, “All my apartments are rented, and salesmen are suppose to call ahead on the phone for an appointment”. I stammered, then getting my courage up told him Mr. Clint had sent me here to apply for a position of a houseboy. Holding the letter up for him to see, I told him that I was to give it to Mr. Mark Clint as my introduction. Waving me back, he stood there sizing me up as I made the trip down that long hall. After giving him the letter, he opened it and then laughed, saying it was about time that his father kept his promise to send him a Boy. Looking me over, he said I would do. Opening another heavy oak door, we descended a flight of steep stairs to the basement level. Laughing, he said he had rented all the prime units and all that was left for him was the basement. Going on, he told me this building was built of solid limestone. Silence and privacy was a requirement in any fine apartment building years ago. His building was one of the few completely soundproof buildings left on the Gold Coast. As we moved down the dark hall approaching his quarters, he told me I might change my mind when I saw the little room that would be my quarters. Passing the open door to his quarters, I glanced in and I could see his large elegantly furnished apartment. He had done it exquisitely in leathers and fine woods. It was truly a man’s apartment and a very expensive one at that. Stopping at a small steel door next to his rooms, he unbolted the little service door, swinging it wide open. Entering and groping for a chain he snapped on a single light hanging from a long chain. The dimly lit room was a depressing space. It wasn’t even big enough to be called a room. It was just a little windowless little prison cell. The only bright spot was off to one side visible through another small door. It was a huge luxurious bathroom, beautifully tiled, and mirrored with a double whirlpool, toilet and even a matching bidet. Seeing my surprise, he explained that the bath had been redone for his apartment but it was common to both rooms. He’d thought years ago he would make this little room into game room, so he’d never closed up that door. Now if I lived there, we would share the common bath together. Mark said I could paint the room and make it a little brighter if I wanted. The room did have a small table that he kept calling a desk, a chair, and an old army cot as furniture. , Then taking me through the bath into his apartment he began telling me what he expected of a houseboy. First, saying his needs were simple, he said he wanted plain meals, but nothing frozen or packaged. I had to cook from scratch, things like Chilly, Beef and noodles, Meatloaf and potatoes, things like a wife would prepare for her husband. Then I would have to clean the apartment and keep it spotless at all times. He went on to tell me he liked to entertain young men and he wanted everything impeccable at all times and fresh sheets on his bed everyday. Then he added that he already had a fine laundry service, so all I would need to launder were his personal undergarments. Nodding in agreement, I said I could do it all and swallowing hard, said I would take the job. That’s when I turned to him, confessing I really didn’t have a choice. I needed a job because I was broke, alone, and needed a place to live. I would be willing to learn anything he could teach me, and do any thing he wanted if I could just stay here. Hearing my confession, Mark turned, breaking out in an unusually bright smile he welcomed me to his world. Extending his big hand he said simply, “You’re my new boy then?” Grabbing at his big paw, I told him my name was Harry Simpson and pumping his hand, I told him how grateful I was to him for hiring me. He suggested I bring my things over immediately and he would help me bring them in. Then reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a money clip and slipped me a twenty saying, “Do it by cab, today.” Walking back to my apartment, it only took only an hour to pack my meager belongings into a box. Most of my stuff was clothing, some writing materials and odds and ends. Hailing a cab, I started on my journey, and with a little extra tip, the cabby delivered my junk and me to my new room. I was unloading my stuff, and Mark came out and gave me a hand. He was suddenly becoming very friendly, now that he knew I alone in the world with no place to go. I was hopeful that for once someone seemed to really give a damn about me. Handing me a set of keys for the front doors, he told me that we seldom had anyone ring to gain entrance. Businessmen and their boy lovers rented these apartments. He went on to tell me this was one of the few all-gay residential apartments in the city. Mark was nice enough in a cold sort of way, and there seemed to be nothing he was afraid to tell me about. He stood there in the daylight; I could see he was a handsome man, tall husky in a brutish way, with a hard look about his face, almost cruel. His most striking feature was how very big he was, almost twice my size. He looked like a caricature of a wealthy playboy from a bygone era. He was really an exciting, strong looking figure in his tight expensive jeans and silk T-shirt--even for Chicago! He piled my stuff outside the door to my new room, saying I might like to clean it up first. This little room had been used as a storeroom for years and it was filthy. Mark found me some buckets and brushes and supplied me with soap. Leaving my stuff in the hall, I moved the cot and every thing to the center of the room. Deciding it was going to be a mess, I stripped off everything--even my underwear and began to scrub the ceiling walls and everything in the room. The water and dirt was dripping down all over me, but I just kept working. As I scrubbed, I began to realize this little cell was now my home. I scrubbed and scraped for hours until it was livable. I was naked on my hands and knees finishing scrubbing, when I was startled to hear Mark’s voice behind me. He’d been watching me work, saying I would be able to sell that ass of mine anywhere in the city. Chuckling, he said I had one fine ass--even if I was fifthly. Blushing, I said nothing and quickly finished up. Mark had run a full tub of hot soapy water, telling me to go in and relax after my workout. Crawling into the tub, he and I chatted as he sat on the edge of the whirlpool. Reaching over, he began to gently massage my back and neck as I lay in the bubbling water. His only comment was that he thought I had a lovely body, commenting that I could even work as an artist’s model to pick up some extra money. They loved painting beautiful naked boys in this neighborhood. He scrubbed my back, his strong hands seem to flow all over my body. It felt good to have someone close and touching me. I was exhausted and I told him I had to get some sleep. I stood rinsing off with the shower nozzle and he fetched me a towel from behind the mirrored doors. He began patting and drying my body and feeling me up, but I was just too tired to get excited. Slipping into my little cell, I lay down on my cot naked and exhausted, and went to sleep instantly. I was not the least bit bothered Mark was still there watching me. I’d been on my knees servicing too many men to ever be self-conscious about being naked and handled by another man. I was the nearest thing to a slut a man could be, and I wanted to try to get away from that kind life. Morning came very early for me. After all that scrubbing, I’d slept very soundly. I was awakened by Mark standing over me and shaking me on the shoulder, telling me to get up and around and to hustle up his breakfast. He was almost without a hair on his body and his skin had the glow of pale marble. Mark had to be in his early fifties and as my eyes traveled down his body, I was stunned when I saw the biggest basket I’d ever seen on a man. His body fascinated me and trying to look away, I scrambled out of bed trying to cover my morning hard-on. Sensing my interest in him, he turned, saying I should go fix his coffee and breakfast now. As he moved into his apartment, he said that he would get me an alarm clock so that I wouldn’t make this same mistake of over sleeping in the future. Then flashing a dazzling smile, he told me I needn’t brother to dress. He never bothered to put clothes on until noon. He liked looking at handsome young bodies and thought my hairy body was really a turn on. Reaching for my jeans, he then insisted I stay naked, grabbing my jeans and throwing them down on the bed. At his insistence, I stayed naked when I worked. I went about my duties bare assed, and after a few weeks, I’d begun to feel quite normal naked, and to tell the truth I rather enjoyed it. Sitting there naked one morning having coffee with him, he laughed in an evil sort of way, saying he like looking at pretty naked boys as much as he like fucking them. He sat there as I began cleaning up the morning dishes. Then he asked me why a young boy like me wanted to live in the middle of fairy town working in a building filled with closet queens. Blushing, I told him I’d been fucking around with men ever since high school. Going on, I told him how it all started: “Some bullies in my class took me to the woods one night after school. Taunting me and saying anyone as pretty as me had to be queer, they tore my clothes off of me, then forcing me to my knees. Pulling their cocks out of their pants, they demanded I suck them off. When I refused, they made a circle around me and beat the shit out of me. Finally giving in, I did everything they demanded. They kept me on my knees until I had sucked everyone of them off at least twice. I had had a hard time with the first boy, gagging with his cock, but by the time the second boy got off, I’d stopped gagging. By my third boy, I was a lot better at it. By the time I was on my fifth guy, I slid down his rod and took his whole cock into my mouth effortlessly. When I began doing them for the second time, I was going at it like a real cocksucker, grabbing their asses and pumping for all I was worth. Somehow it just felt natural doing it and when they would shoot, I just sucked their loads down. They got excited about my doing it and liked it. From that day on they had their gang queer. I’d been blowing the whole gang all of the rest of that year in school and when school closed for summer vacation, they still kept coming to my house to get me. I was two years older and had been held back in grade school due to my lack of interest, motivation and resulting poor grades. This was now coming back to haunt me. One hot summer night, the whole gang came over to my house and took me to the woods again. They had decided they wanted more from me, saying they were going to fuck my ass. At least they’d brought some Crisco. I really got my ass opened up that night. They just kept taking turns screwing me until I began to bleed. That night they turned me into a teenage whore. As boys will do, they all bragged and talked to their friends about their whore. By now all the boys in school knew were to get a piece of ass. I ended up getting fucked by most of the boys in my high school. They would just start walking beside me and pretty soon they would tell me to go with them. As I walked with them, they would tell me I was going to let them fuck me or they’d beat the shit out of me. After a while, they didn’t even bother to threaten me. I would just follow them and go anywhere and do anything they wanted. Just about all the boys in school seemed to know about me. Just a few months before graduation, my father died. The only man that encouraged me to stay in school was my art teacher Mr. Trottnow. I found out quickly that he had a very personal reason for wanting me to stay. He wasn’t doing any thing out of kindness--he too, wanted my body. From the day I moved in to his house he fucked the shit out of me every night. When his friends came over, he let them screw me as often as they wanted. It was Mr. Trottnow that called Mr. Clint, your father and got me a little apartment in Chicago. He gave me a little money and put me on the bus to Chicago to start a new life. He even told me how to pick up tricks if I needed to make extra money. I was afraid of Aids and stuff and I ran out of money before I could find a job. That’s why I’m here now working for you.” Mark and I began spending our whole morning talking and watching his television as I worked. To please him, I stayed naked all the time now. I loved being around him, but I kept telling Mark I should be out looking for a permanent job. Mark got excited, then telling me there was always time for that, and besides he liked for me to stay and keep him company,. Blushing, he said he’d become quite fond of me. He kept watching me as I was doing the cooking and cleaning. He said he always got a kick out of my naked butt when I wore my frilly little kitchen apron. I told him it hurt like hell when I splattered grease on my cock. I begin to think he really wasn’t interested in me. Almost every night I would hear muted voices when our bathroom doors were ajar and I knew when he was having company. In the evenings when he was alone, he developed a habit of asking me over for beer. He sat around in skivies drinking and talking about just about everything. He could be very gentle and he even began teaching me about music. He was always admiring my body and I liked his attention. I was beginning now to wish he would ask me for sex some night. Early one Friday he told me he was expecting special company for the night. He told me to get around and get my ass in gear and clean up the place. Then handing me a list of stuff, he said he wanted me to serve the horsd’oeuvres. This was one of the nights he wanted me around to serve. Telling me to clean myself up, he handed me a little transparent silk shirt and matching thong. Telling me that this was my service uniform for tonight and I should wear it when I served the drinks and snacks. Then after serving, I should get my ass out of there and leave them alone. Dressing in my little uniform, I thought I looked sensational. When his first guest buzzed, I opened the door for him. He gave me quick once over and groped my nuts when I showed him in. Mark was just coming out of the bedroom and they sat on the sofa. I served the drinks as he had requested, Black Russians over cracked ice, then served the little caviar horsd’oeuvres. I was sure disappointed at that cheap looking hooker he was entertaining. I knew my man could do much better than that. After serving them, I retreated through the bath into my little room. Since I had to close the bathroom door to give Mark and his guest privacy, I left my door to the hallway open. I had just drifted off to sleep when I heard Mark’s apartment door slamming and this young fagot screaming out in his high falsetto voice--something about “...that freaky animal bastard!” Running into the apartment, afraid that something dreadful happened, I asked Mark if he were all right. Then I saw him standing in the middle of the room naked, holding a whip. I’d never seen him in such a mood. I was afraid he was on something, but in a few minutes I realized he was just blind drunk. “Damn fucking queers” he was muttering, “They don’t know a good thing when they see it!” He was furious and looking at me with a wild animal look in his eyes. He began yelling, “What the fuck are you looking at, boy! You want some of his cock shoved up your ass? Do you have the balls to beg for it?” As he got closer to me, he began moving his big hand to his crotch and stroking that huge cock of his, he began flaunting himself. I couldn’t believe the size of that man’s meat! Still moving toward me, he began to stroke it. I watched in fascination as he began to form a bead of precum. He had the biggest cock I’d ever seen. Then realizing he wasn’t coming on to me--he expected me to take him. Slipping to my knees and now hot and horny, I finally admitting to him I wanted him. Kneeling there and raising my head, I was ready to service that great hunk of meat. With an evil laugh he cried out, “Finally showing your true colors, you little tramp!” Then giving me a hard slap he pushed my face away saying he was going to have my fuckin’ ass. Grabbing my hair and pulling me to my feet, he dragged me into the bedroom, throwing me on his bed. In a passionate heated voice, he screamed in my ear, “Do you want it kid? Do your really want it? Damn it then, beg me for it, you little cocksucker!” Then he began beating me with his whip. I was now frightened now for my life! Standing there, hard as a rock with his whip, he demanded I strip off my little uniform. I didn’t move fast enough, and in one fell swoop he’d ripped my shirt and thong off me. Cowering there on my knees in fear of his rage, I was afraid not to submit to his commands. With my head now bowed, I waited for his orders, but he just continued to beat my on naked body. Then pushing my chest on his bed he began spreading my legs, positioning my ass for his assault. Taking a glob of KY in his hands and thrusting it into my hole, he began working his fingers up my ass. “Nice big little ass you have, tramp!” was all he said as he got more and more fingers in me. Then suddenly, I had his fist up my ass. He kept working my ass until he was apparently satisfied he could get his cock up my ass. All he said to me was that he was going to fuck the hell out of me tonight. Pulling his hand out of my ass with a loud plop, he paused just a moment to position his cock’s head. Then he began entering my ass. When he had the head implanted, he gave one great lunge, pushing his giant monument deep up my ass. Ignoring my pleas to go-slow and my screams of pain, he just muttered, “…a young boy’s ass was the sweetest kind to fuck.” I kept screaming out in pain as his tool kept working my ass. The more he pushed,, the harder I tried to get away from him. The more I screamed the harder he pushed, telling me no one was going to hear me I could go ahead and yell my head off. He was going to stretch my ass until it fit him--like a custom made glove. Finally when his hips came to a rest on my butt, he could go in no further. He’d filled me with everything he had. He just stood there with that monster cock deep up my ass, waiting for my body to expand and welcome his meat. Kneeling there with his rod deep up my ass, I began to get this glow, as the heat and passion ripped through my body. Then something happened to me--I began to beg him to screw me! There was no love, no tenderness, just raw lust and passion--a man fucking a whore! In the madness of it all he excited me and I wanted him. He began to pump me, saying he was going to screw me until I couldn’t walk. Grunting, he kept slamming into me again and again. He kept telling me I had the ass he’d been dreaming of, pausing only a second to spill his load deep in me. He began to fuck me again, but more slowly this time, apparently enjoying the sensations. I’d been sleeping around since high school, and this was the first time I felt a real thrill and complete satisfaction of a man screwing me. I wanted that huge rocket to ream me forever. He kept fucking and cumin’ until I began to loose all count of how many times he screwed me. Finally withdrawing that tool, he told me I was the best ass he’d ever had. I was limp and sore as he pulled me through his apartment and into my cell. He’d grabbed a black leather bag from his room and taking a pair of handcuffs from it, he cuffed me face up on my cot. Then taking a collar out of the same bag, he fastened it around my neck, locking it in place. Muttering to me he said, “I had given my ass to him today and he was damn sure going to keep it!” Mark called me a “fuckin’ little bitch” and now I was going to be his bitch. Then telling me since I liked to suck and fuck so much, big daddy was going to train me right! Forcing me to lay there as his prisoner, I got even hotter, looking at his hard sweaty body and that massive smooth chest decorated only with his two nipple rings. He was like my childhood fantasy from the Arabian Knights. I had been his vestal virgin that had been sacrificed. I was in ecstasy. Then forcing my legs up and my ass wide, he mounted me again and began to screw me even harder this time. He was so big! I was soon numb, but he continued to ream me again and again, saying that by the time he was done with my ass--he would never need KY to fuck me again. Screwing me until he was exhausted, he finally got up and went to shower. He left me lying there cuffed to the bed, then turned off my light and locked my door. I was not his houseboy any longer--but his prisoner! I hurt all over from the rape, but eventually I did fall into a deep sleep. I was now dirty, smelly, sore and exhausted. When I awoke, there was no way of knowing whether it was day or night. He would come in once a day to let me use the bathroom, then he would screw the hell out of me. I was never unchained and when he brought my food, it was always in a dog dish--I had to crawl and beg for it. Then he would screw be again. When I asked for something to drink, he would offer me some tepid water. He would then demand I get on my knees and take his cock into my mouth. Then he would urinate into me like I was some beast. Emptying his bladder, he would then make me suck him off. I never knew when he would come in and screw me. He kept at me all hours of the day and night and this went on for weeks. He was my total provider of everything. He controlled every part of my life. Keeping me confined in my cell, he would never tell me what was day or night and he never left the lights on. I would sleep a while and wake, then go back to sleep. I was hungry, but I had no idea if it was day or night or how long I’d been chained to that bed. Time meant nothing to me now. My life began when he switched on the lights. I became so desperate for human contact, I gladly gave myself to him. When he kneeled on my bed and straddled his legs across my face, I would kiss his cock and slowly start sucking and lapping until I was sucking his shaft right down to his balls. I could now take all of him. I was so hot for his nectar, his tool seemed to slide right down my throat. I could feel his meat starting to swell even more and sink deeper into my throat, until he finished pumping me full of his cum. Then I would feel his warm fluid flow into me as he relieved himself. Sometimes choking, I now managed to swallow everything that flowed down my throat. One time he was standing over me and he began to spread his cheeks over my face. Presenting his ass to me and ordering me to tongue him and eat him, without hesitation, I reamed his ass with my tongue. Then he settled on my face and I thrust my tongue deep up his ass. He rode my face letting me fuck him with my tongue. If I was exceptionally good and pleased him, he would suck my throbbing cock until I began to cum. Then catching it in his hands he would hold them up for me to lick clean. I was now grateful for the relief and thankful for his kindness. Pleased, he told me I was becoming the best piece of ass he’d ever had and the more he fucked me, the better I was getting. Rising to leave, he told me he’d return later. I now expected him to use me as his personal toilet after sex, and I was grateful even for this now. Hours later when he came back, he released my cuffs, telling me to clean myself up. He wanted to fuck a clean whore. I began to have only one desire--and that was to please him. Anything he asked I would do, any order he gave me now, I would obey and I remained naked at all times now for my master’s sexual convenience. Mark had slowly changed me over that year. I was emotionally dependent on him for everything now. My only desire now was for his approval and direction in everything I said or did. I even craved his abuse and whenever he approached me, I would beg him for his cock. If my cooking or housekeeping failed to please him, he would beat me with his whip. I knew by then it was expected of me to thank him for my beatings, because he was training me. I did nothing now without his permission. My world began when he came to me--and was over when he left. Mark would come in at all different hours, and we would eat at all different times. He had continued my training and when he asked me my name, if I said anything but boy he would beat me. I was so proud when he took delight in screwing me and was pleased that my body had stretched to the point his cock fit into my body like a glove. Holding me tight and kissing me, he told I was the best piece of ass he’d ever had. Mark now no longer tolerated me calling him anything but master. He always addressed me as boy. I had learned to depend on him for everything and I no longer cared how long I’d been confined. I now had hair that hung down my back, and he had me braid it and tie it with leather bands. He also allowed me to wear gold sandals. He seemed to delight in my hairy body calling me his little pet, but he continued to play little games with my mind. One day he would have me kneel and he would ask me my name. If I said boy he was pleased, but one day I accidentally said, Harry. Flying into a rage, he began kicking me in my balls with his boots, making me kneel as he kept kicking until I was unconscious. I never used that name again. Even thinking about it caused me pain. I began to think of myself only as “Boy” until it became the only name I was familiar with. “Boy” had become my identity, and Mark had become my master. By Spring,, I obeyed his every command without thought without question. I now did only what I was instructed to do. He had always allowed me to move freely around the apartment to do the cooking and cleaning. It was still necessary for me to run to him, kneeling and waiting for his orders whenever he entered the room. If I had no instructions and my duties were finished, he expected me to kneel and wait for his next comman-- ,regardless of how long that took. He was now my life my master. He now began taking me go for walks with him. He had given me a little pair of leather shorts and leather sandals for our walks. It matched my new collar and leash. When he ran errands in the neighborhood. and offered to take me, I would slip into those skin tight shorts and he would attach my leash to my collar and take me with him. I was always proud when other men would stop and complement him on his well-trained boy. Sometimes he would have me kneel so they could pat my head. Mark’s fiftieth birthday was approaching and he told me he had a surprise for me. He had talked about wanting to thank his father for finding me. I realized now that when Mr. Clint had sent me here for the position of Houseboy, he knew his son would train me as his slave. It no longer mattered, since long ago I’d surrendered my will and my body to him. I had accepted the one sure fact in my life that I was now my master’s property. He said he just had one more thing that he needed to do before the party and I had my coming out--he wanted me branded! That very afternoon he had me dress in my little leather shorts and sandals and led me over to West Chicago Avenue, past the old YMCA, to the Summer Moon Tattoo Parlor. He’d given them a sketch of a stylish logo with the words “Property of Mark Clint” He’d selected Caslon letters for them to tattoo across my chest, inside the logo. He wanted everyone that saw me to know I was his property. He was so taken with the excellent work they did on me that he allowed them to take me into the backroom to photograph me. They had me strip my little shorts and assume poses kneeling and hanging from chains and all that kind of stuff--,S&M stuff. Then in a moment of generosity or proof of his ownership, he let the boys fuck me. They promised that when my pictures came out in their magazine, I would surely be their centerfold. That pleased my master greatly and he asked for copies of the pictures for his album. Mark spent quite a bit of time grooming me for the party. He had me bathe and oiled my body and then plated my long brown hair with strips of gold braid and leather. He told me he wanted to be proud of me tonight. The only other thing I would wear tonight was a pair of gold sandals. Leading me to the mirror, he showed me how splendid I looked. I kneeled, watching him dress and I asked what he wanted me to do all evening. He responded simply with, “Just obey me in all things.” Then the doorbell started ringing. Our first guest was Mr. Clint, Mark’s father. Master had invited him several hours early, saying his father had wanted to see how I’d turned out as his slave boy. He had been confident when he sent me over--I would be just what he wanted. Mark then gave me to his father for his pleasure as a “thank you” for his gift. Mr. Clint told me to follow him and please his every desire. For two hours he used me in every way possible. His cock was even larger than my Master’s was and he was more brutal as his son was. I licked and sucked him and when he fucked me, I begged him for more. When he had gratified himself, he returned, congratulating his son on such a fine job of training me. He said I was a delight to fuck. I passed among the guests, serving refreshments and when I wasn’t performing those duties, I kneeled at my Master’s feet. Finally, by nightfall master and I retired together. He told me I had preformed well as his slave. As for his father, he said he would always remember me as a great piece of ass. Then Master held me, telling me that from now on I would never need to satisfy anyone but him. I was his completely. Bowing my head, I begged him to fuck me. As he mounted me, he slid up my ass effortlessly, saying I was truly made for him. That night he held me close and with tears in his eyes he told me he loved me. Every night now when I lie close to my master, I thank him for taking care of me.