BOY COLE - Slave Boy

Chapter 8: Slave Boy


I couldn’t be happier with my slave boy, Cole. Not only is he absolutely stunning and beautiful, but he’s obedient. He does what I say, exactly as I say it, even anticipating my needs before I speak. He’s got a beautiful body, an enormous cock, and a tight hole that fits my manhood like a glove. But the thing that makes him perfect is the way he looks at me.

I get attention all the time. People are always looking to either get something from me or to be my next sexual conquest. But oftentimes, the desperation in their eyes turns me off too much. They need me because I am greater than them. Superior. Richer. Stronger. Bigger. But in the end, I satisfy a fleeting desire.

But for my slave boy, Cole, I am literally everything to him. I’m his Master, his protector, his owner and steward. His pleasure comes from me. His pain comes from me. Everything - including the air he breathes - is a gift from me. And when he looks at me, he worships me like a god. It’s unparalleled. And it’s the only thing that gets my dick as hard as a rock.

Taking him out of his cage, he greets me with a smile that is full of passion and longing. He’s missed me. He always wants to be with me. And it pains him when I crate him away. But it’s good for him. For one thing, it makes his mouth wetter for my cock to leave him wanting. And, for another, it reminds him of who I am and what he is. He’s my possession. Not my equal.

Even when I kiss him, the worship from him is palpable. He takes off my clothes with reverence, wanting to please me, but also aware of my power and wrath. I wouldn’t harm him. He’s too valuable to me. But I do want him to think of me as divine.

As he kisses my muscles, my abs and chest, he obediently and patiently follows my instructions. I know he wants the cock that’s growing and swelling in my underwear, but he must show me devotion first. No one makes me feel more like a god than my slave.

After a time, I give him his reward. My throbbing cock passing his lips is like a holy sacrament, blessing him with a taste of perfection. He sucks on it like it gives him something vital, something essential to his existence. He wants to have all of it in him, making him more complete and greater than himself.

Nothing gets this done quite as perfectly as when I fuck him. His round, smooth cheeks straddle my manhood, awaiting the moment when he can fully receive me. It’s my decision as to how and when, but he’d do anything to have it.

When I slide myself inside him, the intense thickness stretches him out instantly. He can take it. He has no choice. And he’s taken it many times before. But it closes tight each time, letting me feel like I’m taking him anew with every fuck. Once I’m balls deep, he’s not concerned about pain or even pleasure. He just wants me. All of me. Every inch of my cock and drop of my load.

I spread his legs and fuck him harder and harder, milking my cock with his tight sphincter as I feel my loins begin to ready themselves for climax. It’s a powerful feeling to look at someone who is so desperate to be inseminated and filled with your load just as you pick up the pace and prepare to shoot.

He wants it not because he’s simply horny or I’m simply attractive. He wants it because he’s my property. My slave. My inferior and my possession. My load makes him something more, just for a while. He’s a good slave, and he’s earned this load. And many more to come.