Trent’s duties keep him fairly occupied throughout the day, but I still expect communication. After all, communication is the foundation of any good relationship. I get little texts and pictures as he accomplishes his daily tasks- in the morning, I hear about how our animals are doing, a small update on the yard work and progress of our gardens. Through the afternoon I’m made aware of various meetings and projects he completes for his remote position at an engineering firm. And as I’m readying myself to drive back to our cozy abode, I receive a confirmation that his housework is completed and dinner is started, as well as a summary of his daily workout- a long high-intensity interval session on his stationary bicycle, followed by heavy squats, hip thrusts, and thigh abduction (for a big, round ass), followed by a rigorous shoulder regimen including overhead press, and bench press. He sends a selfie, flexing for me in an Arnold-style pose, and I admire his slutty ivory-colored body, the result of his hard work and my guidance.
In the selfie, he wore his daily outfit- a thin black leather collar with three O-rings placed at 90 degree angles, locked around his thick neck with a tiny padlock. The padlock is more symbolic than functional- I know he’d never dream of removing this precious symbol of his status as an owned piece of property. My eyes drift down to his chest, which sports another symbol of his slavery- two thick, low-gauged rings decorate his nipples, dragging them down from their place at the summits of his large pecs. He actually cried when I first told him he’d be getting some slave rings. Now, he literally begs me to continue to thicken them. Granted, often the alternatives to thickening I provide are much less preferable, but I always remind him how little he wanted his slave rings initially, and how much he loves them now.
Further down I feast my gaze on his six-pack and meaty obliques, which narrow and bulge over his hips, giving him fetching “cum gutter” lines, forming an arrow which points directly at yet another of my modifications- the slut’s locked up, denied cock. Unlocked it’s rather large, but I’ve managed to accommodate it’s thick seven inches into a two-inch solid, brushed steel tube, secured in place with a prince albert and guiche piercing. The weight of the apparatus around his swollen blue balls gives his package a heavy, pendulous swing, which I don’t intend to correct- it incentivizes soft, small, submissive steps. There’s something so fucking satisfying about seeing a man of his size and stature padding around our home, gingerly avoiding any sudden or uncontrolled movement. When we go out or meet up with friends I let him support it with a tight jockstrap, as well as some adhesive pasties to obscure the telltale lines of his nipple rings under the tight button up shirts I set out for him to wear.
He hasn’t cum using his cock in ages. I used some long-term conditioning and a few key phrases to ensure that he botched his last attempt to cum from a paid dominatrix’s handjob. At this point, his subconscious won’t let him blow his load without a strong whiff of my sweaty socks or ass and my express vocal permission after a countdown. Since he spurted at the mere smell of my shoe, the slut’s been asking a little more persistently to be allowed to jerk his locked-up dick. I guess the memory makes him pretty horny. Initially I tried to remind him that he doesn’t need his dick if he can cum from smell alone. The tenacious slut kept asking, so I finally had to set and enforce some long-term boundaries- now, he doesn’t get to cum unless I say, and he doesn’t get to ask to cum. Some of the bruises from that session are still healing. Bimbos like him are hard to teach.
It’s not that I don’t like his cock- I actually love it. I just need to make sure that he’s not thinking of himself as a real man at any stage in our relationship. With our wedding coming up I’ve given some thought to letting him fuck something on our wedding night- a hole in a watermelon, for example, or a blow-up doll. But until then, his nub is staying trapped in it’s custom-made prison.
Since it’s a Friday, I know on my drive home that my fiance is scampering around my house, ensuring that no single speck of dust remains on any horizontal surface. He’s cleaned out his ass by now with our gallon enema, no doubt, and applied a strong depilatory to his crotch and balls, as well as around his asshole. His face should be shaved to ensure a smooth ride for me. As I head up our driveway to the door, I imagine him hustling to inject a large volume of silicone lube up his ass with a lube-launcher and plug his hole up with a large, double-bulbed butt plug. We started small with the butt plugs, all those years ago, but with a regimen of stretching through my cock, my fists, various oversized dildos (including “Jumbo,” his favorite toy these days), we’ve needed to up the caliber of plug required to hold any lube in his used-up hole. Obviously he can tighten it around any size of rod, including my average-sized one, but I like him starting nice and wide.
And sure enough, as I walk in the door, there he is- servile and submissive as ever. Maybe even more so these days, as he’s so deep into orgasm denial and the humiliating high of planning a duo of weddings- one a normal marriage between a man and his groom, the other a kinky acknowledgement of his status as my permanent straight underling to manipulate and mold in sickness and health. The community thinks of him as a done-up, proper, out-and-proud homosexual man in a loving relationship with his long-term partner. Very few know the truth about his sexuality and our arrangement. Probably not how he imagined his life turning out when he first started noticing girls and discovered his tendency for submission.
The routine we’ve worked out over the years includes his greeting me at the door like a loyal dog. He doesn’t get to make eye contact until I address him. He’s squatting on the rug in our mudroom next to the shoes and coats, straining his massive quads, knees spread, and arms crossed behind his back, proudly displaying his pumped up, pierced chest. I happen to know that his hole is tightening around his plug- early in his training for this routine, he accidentally dropped the plug after flexing his abs or pelvis to stay balanced in this position. He couldn’t sit for a week after I punished him for that transgression.
That beautiful cleft chin maintains a docile posture, pointed downward, and I see his liquid-blue eyes and their long blond lashes follow my feet as I walk around the room. As usual, the position of utter humiliation and dependence causes him some confusing horniness- I notice his dick twitching in it’s restraints. I love this moment, and choose to ignore him for the first few seconds. I sit down and take off my shoes and socks, and finally break the silence.
“Hey, dummy. Clean my feet.”
He eagerly crawls forward and starts to lick and suckle on my toes like a hungry piglet. When we started this routine he would express some disgust, occasionally gagging, or worse would express shame- blushing as he tentatively licked my toes. His dick was of course hard as a rock from the beginning. Through conditioning and repetition, over the years my sub has come to relish in this task, his behavior now matches his true nature- eager and submissive. Ritual has been an important part of his training. Every weekday since we’ve moved in, without fail, my sub cleans my feet after my day at work. At this point it’s just another part of his day. What’s not a regular part of his day, though, is what I decide to do next.
“Guess what bitch. I’ve got to piss. Toilet.”
He looks at me with some apprehension and shock in his eyes, but proceeds with his protocol. I unbuckle my belt in front of his face and pull down my pants and underwear, and his thick, pillowy pink lips suction around my soft cock. I always start to get hard at this part. Then, I release my bladder. The sub chugs my piss like a beer bong, applying constant suction and never releasing the seal of his lips around my shaft. While I shoot my piss down his throat, I passively pinch and rub his his pierced nipples. I know it drives his whole ego and sense of self into a tiny, humiliated part of his brain, and that he’s ashamed and horny about his deep love of doing these filthy tasks for me, hardening in his tiny cage at the feeling of his master absent-mindedly torturing his modified chest while he serves as a human toilet.
It pleases me to know that my sub hasn’t pissed standing up in several years of his life, forced to sit by the apparatus which constrains his manhood, and yet he occasionally must serve as a urinal for me. And damn, he’s good at it. It feels like he’s sucking the piss directly from my bladder, like he wants it, a parched traveler at an oasis. After I finish, and his stomach is full of my piss, I instruct him to continue sucking and clean my cock off while I use his tits as stress balls. He dutifully takes me, still only partially hard, deep into his throat, and follows this expert move with a swishing motion of his long tongue around my shaft. He knows I love to harden in his throat. He continues to swallow and suck, and swishes his tongue around the base of my dick. He even pushes his nose into my pubic bone so he can lick my balls with the tip of his tongue, when I get hard enough to finally push his limits- with a final pulse, I expand in his larynx and cause him to gag slightly. I pull out of his mouth, but he keeps it open, a string of drool dropping from his pouty bottom lip. He knows better than to close his mouth at this stage.
“You must be really horny to push yourself like that. Good boy.”
“Thank you sir.”
The mouth remains open after this statement. He does not move. He speaks with a soft bass California-style himbo surfer boy inflection, which he had when I first met him. I’ve heard him on his work calls and been around him with vanilla company- he actually speaks like a fairly normal, intelligent person when he’s required to. But around me, he’s a dumb jock. I don’t think he has control of this switch in personality. I make a habit of insulting his intelligence and removing choices from his hands, so I forget sometimes that he’s actually pretty smart. I sure as fuck don’t understand some of the diagrams I see him analyzing in his work room. I make a mental note to ask for an update on one of his notably difficult ongoing work projects later.
“Meet me in the living room. I’ve had a long day.”
I take off my pants and underwear and drape them on his head with flourish, heading to the living room, past the kitchen, where I see he’s started dinner. He knows to do sous-chef duties before I get home so he has a break to please me before finishing our meal- vegetables are pre-chopped, and a lamb roast marinades in a tupperware. After he’s finished placing my clothing in the laundry hamper, he follows me to the living room on his hands and knees. I’ve collapsed into one of our black leather sofas.
“Did you plan a roast for this evening?”
“Yes sir. I knew you were having a rough one today, so decided to go all out.”
“Aw, thank you. That’s sweet. Seriously, I know you’ve been busy lately too, that’s really nice. I can’t wait.”
“Neither can I sir!”
I drop the tender tone and lift my legs up. There will be more time for that later. “Ok, clean my ass.”
Without skipping a beat, the sub shoves his face deep into my ass crack. His long tongue works circles around my anal ring before squirming it’s way in. I feel him lick and massage my prostate, sucking and kissing my hole as I harden, just as I’ve trained him. I look down at him and see his eyes open, gazing and blinking blissfully at my face. Years ago, he used to close his eyes while he rimmed me. We corrected that. His cute nose is nestled into the back of my sack, and I realize I’m going to have to pierce his septum at some point here just to complete the image.
“You like that?”
“Uh-huh, fank you fir.”
“Good. It’s pretty much all you’re good for. Now my balls.”
His head moves up a few inches and he slurps my balls into his mouth, gently rolling them around with his tongue. He continues to look lovingly into my eyes as I start to jerk off.
“You’re just an object for my pleasure, you know that, right piggy?”
“Yef fir” he speaks through my balls. This type of statement makes him shudder with lust.
“Fucking bend over, I’ve gotta fuck that ass.”
He releases my balls from his mouth with a pop and quickly gets on all fours in the center of our living room. His back is arched, which gives his ass a pleasingly rounded appearance. I’ve trained him to behave as fuckable as possible, which was tough for a straight bimbo jock to figure out, but now he’s got it down. Head down, ass up. He starts begging for my dick as we’ve practiced time after time before.
“Please fuck your toy sir, please. I need your cock sir. Please give your slave the gift of your cum, sir.”
“You need it?” I say, as I reach behind the couch. There’s a stainless steel doggy bowl there for this very occasion, I place it directly under his locked up dick.
“Yes sir. Yes sir. Yes sir!”
I begin to work the plug out of his ass, which prompts him to emit a gratified moan. When I finally get it out, his loosened asshole is gaping, and he winks it seductively at me. He knows I love this kind of stupid, slutty, depraved behavior, which means he loves doing it even as he sort of hates it.
“Good boy. Such a hungry little hole.”
“Yes sir, I have such a hungry little hole. Please give this boy your cock, sir. You have such a beautiful cock, I need it inside me.”
“Ask me to fuck your straight ass, nicely, one more time.”
“Please sir fuck my straight ass. I need to feel your cock in my straight ass, sir. This straight slut needs your cock, sir, please.”
Of course I want to indulge him, but I need to deal with this lube-covered butt plug in my hand. Reaching forward, I put it near his mouth, and he stretches out his jaw and sucks to accommodate it.
“Plv vr mah ah hav yr cough”
“No problem, bitch.”
I love making him talk while he’s gagged. Really finishes out his stupid slut persona.
I plunge my dick and bottom out on the first thrust, causing him to groan in pleasure and pain through his nostrils. His sphincter tightens around my dick and he starts rhythmically squeezing, a tactic I had to train into him meticulously after I discovered it while reading about the skills of high-class call girls.
Those big ass globes bounce in time to my thrusts, and the well-trained fuck hole rocks his hips in time with my penetrations. His heavy nipple rings and locked up cock swing with the rhythm. Each time I bottom out, he releases a borderline-feminine grunt. The slut knows what it takes to please me. The knowledge that he’s pleasing me and the staccato prostate massage take their toll- pretty soon I hear those desperate little whines which are characteristic of Trent’s desire to have a prostate orgasm. He’s probably not aware, but when he gets close he acts like a total slut, angling his hips to better allow me to ram his tender prostate from the back. Orgasm denial has driven this little straight boy so far from where he started. He knows better than to ask, especially after our recent lesson, but the slut sometimes needs a reminder before his body betrays him.
“Don’t you fucking dare, bitch.”
He hums out in disappointment, but continues to bounce his huge muscular ass on my cock. His mind is such putty in my hands at this point, simply saying “no.” in a strong voice would prevent his ability to cum. It turns me on so fucking much that this slutty little jock belongs to me to this extent, and I adore keeping him from doing what he wants to do. Each time I deny his orgasm, humiliate him, or hurt him, I feel my power over him growing a little stronger, and I feel his submission and position at my feet grow more solid and permanent. It turns me on to no end. I love that I can edge him just by using him like a fleshlight. His balls must be so backed up.
This punitive denial of my feeble-minded little pet, regardless of his good performance this evening, has me right on the edge, and I tell him-
“Don’t need to hold out for too long. I’m getting real close.”
His eyes light up and he starts pushing against me with renewed gusto. My pleasure is his priority, and his instincts drive him to make me as happy as possible. I’m pretty much as soon as I let him know that the opportunity to pull an orgasm from his master’s cock is a possibility, he’s forgotten about everything else in the world.
I hear him cutely trying to talk, gutturally speaking one syllable per thrust in his native tongue, plug-ese. It’s too much for me.
“Plf! Fir! Giv! Yr! Flut! Yr! Cum! MFfffffffffffffff fank you fir.”
He breathlessly thanks me as I empty my load into his ass. I smack it, triggering a ripple across his massive glute and powerful thigh, and pull out, causing him to gasp. That fuckable asshole winks at me again. I laugh- he knows what he’s doing, he thinks if he acts cute and dirty enough I might let him blow his slave load. He can keep on dreaming. Maybe later I’ll let him get Jumbo out, but I sure as fuck won’t let him cum on it.
“Push it out next to yours,” I say, pointing to the sizeable puddle of pre-cum which has accumulated in the doggy bowl under his still-dripping locked nub.
Plug in mouth, belly full of piss, and ass full of cum, he squats over the bowl and pushes out a mixture of lube and cum, holding eye contact with me and smiling as well as he can with the massive plug in his mouth. He looks like such a stupid whore. He knows not to show any emotion other than sheer bliss and happiness during this activity, and has done so for so long that the rule of “fake it til you make it” surely applies. On some level he’s disgusted with himself, but on another equally real level, this muscular bimbo is so fucking pleased to have made his master cum and to have the opportunity to further debase himself for his master’s pleasure. Practice makes perfect. It’s the same principle which drives him to push himself so hard in the gym, to fulfill my instructions in every part of his life, and which keeps him firmly in my grasp.
“Good boy. Take care of this mess.”
He takes the plug out of his mouth and gingerly replaces it into his ass. There’s a lot more use, training, and hard labor coming this weekend. As he slurps up the mix in the bowl, he mumbles continuous thanks to me. I turn on the TV and start looking for a movie, making a show of ignoring him. After he’s licked his doggy bowl spotless, he moves to my cock, painstakingly cleaning it with his mouth. In my post-orgasm stupor, it’s easy to forget that this sub is still frustrated. The fervor with which he attends to my needs is a reminder. I feel myself start to harden again as he moves to licking off the wet spot we’ve left on the couch.
“What are you thinking for dessert tonight?”