A Master and his Boi

"For now, please, for now. I'll switch up in an hour or two. Come, Pumpkin, let me unlock your chain from this wall, and follow me to my room, which I assume-"

"Is all set up for you already," said Master.

"The perfect host!" cried the redhead with a flourish, then she swept me and the young slaveboy with her up the stairs and into a nice suite with a big king-sized bed, and the usual set of cages, restraints and toys that rooms in the mansion all possessed. I knelt to the right of the boy, whose slave-name was Twine, and the redhead - Mistress Portia - sat on the bed peering down at us.

"What are you, Pumpkin?" asked Mistress Portia.

"I am a slaveboi, mistress, part human, part pet, owned by my Master whose home this is," I replied.

"And what will you do for me, Pumpkin?"

"Whatever you tell me to do, mistress."

"Correct, Pumpkin, correct. Reach underneath my dress and remove my knickers, Pumpkin, there's a good boy. Now, get up and go find me a vibrator... Thank you, Pumpkin - such a lovely name for a lovely boy. All right, Twine, Pumpkin, give me a show to get off to!"

"Yes, mistress!" we replied together.

I knelt back down with Twine and he turned to face me, then I cupped his chin in my hand and leaned in to kiss him gently on the lips. He almost recoiled but he caught himself in time, and then he kissed me back with a lot of force. I slid my tongue into his mouth and he flicked his against mine, then I pulled him closer to me and we both rose to our knees and began to fondle each other's backsides.

"Feel each other up you little bitches," gasped Mistress Portia from the bed, her legs spread, the vibrator held tight against her clit.

Inside my mind I bristled a little at being called a little bitch, though I knew I was anyone's bitch who Master said so. While I kissed Twine, images flashed into my mind of the last slave who had tried to escape from Master's household, a middle-aged slavegirl who had been found by her tracker implants and and brought back to the house within a matter of hours. Memories of her punishment drove me to commit to being a little bitch when so ordered.

"Good boys! Good bitches! Keep going for me!"

I took the lead to spare the trembling slaveboy from having to come up with something to do. I gently laid him down on the carpeted floor, then I started to kiss up and down his belly, down to his cock, then up to his neck, then all over his torso as he started to gasp and groan. We both started to get hard, and I moved so that I could grind my erection against his while I kissed his warm lips and he gripped my back.

"Beautiful boys! Hard slave cocks that know they're owned..." said Mistress Portia, then she trailed off.

I felt my member twitch when she said 'owned' and knew it was true, that I had been conquered, reshaped, trained, and that I now loved my Master and anyone he loved like family. As I kissed and caressed the slaveboy Twine, I felt an ache in my arse, a longing to be filled, that I doubted I would have to worry about for long.

"Twine, all-fours. Pumpkin, fuck him," said Mistress Portia.

"Yes, mistress," we sang back together.

When I'd lubed him up, I found he was still pretty tight, a genuinely new slaveboy. I shook with excitement as I slid my cock into him, out of him, into him, out of him. Portia caught my eye and winked and I nodded back, then I grabbed the boy's hips and thrust harder inside him while he cried out. Portia loved that and motioned for me to do it again, and again.

"Pumpkin, be senior slave, Twine, follow Pumpkin's orders and call him 'sir'," said Portia.

"Take my cock," I said as I took the groaning boy hard.

"Yes, sir, thank you sir," said Twine in a high register.

"You love it don't you Twine?" I said, "being fucked for your owner's amusement."

"Yes, sir."

I slapped his arse hard. "Can I get a thank you, sir?" I said.

"Thank you sir!" cried Twine.

"Good boy!"

So I kept on fucking him and pleasing his owner with a patter of dom-talk that brought a huge lusty smile to her face. I spanked the boy's tight backside as I took him and he thanked me every single time, just like his mistress had already drilled into him to do. Twine's tight arse brought my cock huge surges of pleasure, and in no time at all I was panting with the effort of not cumming.

"Big finish!" said Portia.

"Yes, mistress!" I replied.

Twine yelped in surprise as I locked my hands around his hips and drove my cock deep inside him. I screwed him mercilessly while he cried out in a mixture of lust and pain, and I let his owner see just how happy I was to be there with them both. She came hard with the vibrator just as I roared out my orgasm and came inside Twine, then we both rode the wave of pleasure, with lots of eye contact, while poor Twine just had to wait and take it.

"Excellent work, boys. Clean up, then get some champagne and join me in the bed," said Portia.

Five minutes later I lay on one side of Twine and Portia on the other. I let my hands drift up and down his body while his owner did the same, and we took turns caressing his rock-hard cock and giving it a few jerks to build him toward an explosive climax. I loved the feel of his tight arse cheeks against the palm of my hand, and he loved me squeezing them while his owner masturbated him.

"Good boy, Twine," murmured Portia.

"Thank you, mistress," he mumbled back.

"Such a beautiful body," I said.

"Thank you, sir," he replied.

"I mean to keep him skinny and youthful, it suits him," said Portia.

"Just so, mistress," I replied.

Twine writhed between us on the soft bed. I had met a few volunteers, people who had chosen slavery, and they all seemed to react like him, lustily giving their owners everything they had. I wondered idly if Twine would ever regret his decision, perhaps in ten or twenty years, perhaps when his owner chose to discipline him especially harshly and he wept as her whip lashed his back, or perhaps when he thought of all the other things he could have done with his life.

Right at that moment I doubted he had any regrets at all. He groaned and gasped as we pleasured him, and I felt the heat radiating off his young body into mine as I ground myself against him and ran my hands all around his frame. Portia jacked him off harder and faster with every passing second, until she started to sweat with the effort, and before long Twine came in great jets of cum onto her belly.

"Good, good boy," said Portia, "so good for mistress, so well-behaved. Nonetheless, Twine, I never feel a little discipline goes amiss. Get a chair and get over Pumpkin's knee. Now, where did I put that vibrator?"

I spanked his tight bottom while Portia watched, naked, from the bed, her vibrator once again pressed hard against her clit. Twine didn't like the punishment much, but then he wasn't supposed to, and so I made a good show of it for his owner and didn't pay any mind to the boy's feelings. He needed to do what his owner said, even if he had behaved impeccably.

Thwack, went my hand against his reddening bottom. Smack, a forceful blow landed. He whimpered. I kept on hitting him hard and his mistress nodded, glee etched across her face, as her slaveboy whimpered beneath my blows. Thwack, another especially hard one and he started to cry, so thwack, I gave him one again and he began to blub.

"Good boy, Twine, let it all out," said Portia.

"Y- yes Mistress!" he sobbed back.

I think I punished him for about twenty minutes before Portia finally orgasmed and rode her climax as far as it could take her. She lay down on the bed on her belly, and she had her boy crawl in between her buttcheeks and start to lick her there. Portia beckoned me over, kissed me on the mouth, then waved me away with an order to return to general duties. I bowed and left.

Just like that I had been disposed of. I bore Portia no ill-will for that, for she was living the life that came naturally to her in that culture, and I, well, I was just a piece of property. I had accepted it, for it was undeniably true, and so I knelt once more in the entrance hall, naked and chained to a wall, while guests streamed in. To them, and to myself, I was a piece of property.

My next encounter was with a buxom young debutante named Marissa. She wore a red party frock from which her huge breasts bulged out, and she had long blonde ringlets that framed a round face. She took me with her into a suite that Master had loaned her and her girlfriends, then she locked me straight into a queening chair and slid off her knickers.

With a flick of her dress she sat down on my face and then rearranged herself until her clit was near enough my tongue. Darkness descended around me as her skirts fell over my eyes and her butt pressed down onto my face. I concentrated on licking, licking, licking, while occasionally being allowed to gasp down a breath when the blonde shifted position or remembered that I had to breathe too.

So I licked and licked. She got wetter, wetter still, and she started to wriggle so that her clit was even closer to my mouth and her plump arse enveloped me completely. I pleasured her with force and she exploded into a gushing climax that I swallowed down with great relish, eager to please her, while she wriggled and then settled into place for the final flicks of my tongue. When she had stopped shuddering, she got off me and looked down at me.

"Part of the furniture," she said then giggled. "Lick me slowly now..."

With another flick of her skirts she planted her juicy rump back on my face, and I heard a slave bring her and her girlfriends more wine to drink. I licked slowly now, arching my tongue around her vulva and over her crack, and she settled into position where she could talk comfortably and I could lick without strain. That way, I licked and licked, and she talked and talked.

I caught some snatches of conversation. She was looking for a future husband, and perhaps for a couple of slaves to buy to accompany her on her upcoming grand tour. She thought perhaps one older and one younger, for wisdom and energy respectively, but she wasn't sure what genders she wanted yet. I heard her comment on how well-trained I was, and how it was nice to meet chattels with enough self-respect to serve in a dignified way. I even heard her admire my brands.

Her second orgasm happened quite some time later, a gentle climax that drifted out of her while I alternated lapping slowly across her clit and then circling my tongue around and around. She settled down onto me again, once more smothering me with her backside, and I kept her orgasm going and going for the longest time while she just sat there, perfectly still, taking all the pleasure she could get.

The debutante and her friends got up a little while later, and simply left me there, facing the ceiling, tied down to the queening chair. I could hear the party going on in other rooms, but with no way to release the straps myself, I was just a piece of furniture for what felt like a very long time. I was not required, so I waited.

And waited. I thought about my wife and what might be happening to her out there in the party, and about myself and how long I would be bound to that chair in that room before someone came to check where I was or to release me. Or, as it turned out, to use me again. After a long, long while had elapsed, I heard the blonde and her friends erupt back into the room, and then the blonde planted her rump on my face for one last orgasm.

I lapped eagerly at her clit, grateful for something to do, and she drove herself right down into my face and wriggled about all over the place. She was obviously already drunk, but she managed to settle down just enough that I could keep my tongue where she wanted it, and in due time she came hard all over my face once more. When she had finished gasping her way through the orgasm, she untied me, and pushed me towards the door.

"Aren't you going to thank him?" asked one of the other girls with her.

"I don't thank furniture, no," said the debutante, then they moved on to talk about boys.

I never even made it back to the hallway before a party of men and women picked me up and had me accompany them into the grand ballroom, where the chandeliers glittered, and people thronged together dancing or sitting around in the luxurious chairs. I butlered for the party of twenty or so people, always on my feet to serve more drinks or fetch food from the kitchens.

None of them paid me any mind, nor even asked my name, and I found it was a relief to just serve food and drinks like it was a normal party for a while. Sometimes one of the guests would squeeze my arse or pat my cock to say thank you, and once one of the men had me be his footstool for a few minutes, but beyond that, I just fetched and carried, and tried to let them have a good time.

I think another couple of hours had passed when I heard from across the ballroom floor my Master bellow my name, "Pumpkin! Come here at once."

I bowed to the group I had been waiting on, put down the drinks tray on a side table, then scurried over to where Master had called from. I squeezed through the dancing bodies of free people and slaves and made my way over to the group that my owner sat with. I saw a toned and athletic middle-aged woman in a general's uniform, two smartly dressed businessmen, and several younger free men and women. With them were a medley of slaves, their naked flesh glowing in the candlelit ballroom.

"Pumpkin, petmode," said Master.

I dropped to my hands and knees instantly, quite without thought, and crawled the last of the distance to him. He lounged on a rich red leather sofa, facing the general who sat in an armchair cradling a drink. I crawled past the feet of the guests and their slaves, and presented my collar to Master, who leashed me right there. He ruffled my hair and called me a good boy, so I yipped to acknowledge the compliment, then blushed as his guests laughed at me.

Master mitted my hands with black leather gloves, locked around my wrists, and put on my kneepads, then he had me kneel beside him facing the group. I spread my legs automatically and put my paws up near my chin to display myself for him, knowing it might bring me some kind of reward. Knowing he would accept nothing less. Knowing I wanted to please him, and then blushing with shame when I realised it. For some reason the group's eyes all went down to my cock and balls.

"So this is the boi whose little pecker and globes you claim to own so completely," said the General.

"Pumpkin, who owns your little puppy cock and little puppy testicles?" said Master.

I drew breath and turned to face him, staring into his fierce eyes. I yipped and yapped at him and gestured towards him with my paws, and he smiled warmly and nodded. I blushed deeply and fought down the shame that clouded my mind. Everyone was looking at my genitals with the certain knowledge that another man owned them, controlled them, and knew it.

"So how did you achieve it?" asked the General.

"Are you asking generally, or to help with your own little petmale there?" said Master.

"Naturally to help with him."

"He's new?"

"Yes."

"Skinny."

"Prisoner of the last war, I only just had him released from prison and took him for my own."

"I see it in his eyes, he's far from broken yet. Tell me, will he be multi-use like my Pumpkin here?"

"No, he's just going to be a pet. I already had his fingers removed but you can't tell because of the mitts."

"That was a good start then, he already knows there's no going back. I see from his all-fours stance he could make an excellent puppy. What's the problem?"

"He's wilful and sometimes even talks to me like a human, begging to be let go."

"He seems placid enough tonight."

"Well he's under threat of extreme punishment, you know. It does focus their minds."

"That it does, but what if there's a simpler way?" asked Master.

"Such as?" said the general.

"Make him understand that you own his balls. Understand it bone deep, not just as words."

"How?"

"Have you given him any of the aphrodisiacs tonight?"

"No."

"Please do. Here, I have a little pill here. Maid! Yes, you. Fetch me two coldpacks and two small chastity cages, with lock and key, now, oh and two ball-leashes, I know you know the kind I mean. Good boi!"

I sensed a teaching moment approaching. The same aphrodisiac flowed through my body, rendering me semi-hard all the time. When the maid tottered back in his high heels, he brought with him two coldpacks on a silver tray; Master took one from the boi then applied it to my package. I shrank down and down until I was flaccid and frozen, and Master nodded. He locked a chastity cage to me while everyone watched.

"Cruel," said one of the businessmen watching, "if the boy is dosed up."

"Absolutely cruel," said Master, "but these balls are mine and I choose to be cruel to them. Yip if I own these balls, Pumpkin."

I yipped immediately, emphatically, loud enough for all to hear even over the music and hubbub. I had no way, nor will, to deny that he spoke the truth.

"General, now please do the same for your boy. Why not try telling him what's happening?"

"Well, all right. I suppose it can't hurt. Now then, Spoils, this coldpack will shrivel you down to a nub, because I say you'll be shrivelled down to a nub. Yip to acknowledge this."

He paused then yipped at his Mistress and I saw the look of shame that crossed his face. That had been me, just a month before. He really was a scrawny thing, but there was the suggestion of health in his skin, and I knew that wellness would follow into the rest of his body soon. I had seen a few of these spoils of war slaves while serving Master, and all of them fared better as property than as free men and women. This one was simply struggling to accept his animal nature, which was clear for us all to see in the way he knelt, the way his eyes went wide at his name, and how he kept close to his owner for comfort even as he feared her.

"See," said Master, "already he responds better."

The petmale Spoils whined as heat returned to his cock and it tried to escape its little steel prison. I felt my own cage do the same, bobbing up and down, but I bit my lip and stayed silent so Master could continue teaching. Spoils scowled briefly then corrected himself, returning his face to a passive and waiting state. His eyes flitted around but he managed to keep himself still.

"Yes he does," said the General, "Spoils, I own your pecker and your balls and I say what they do and when. Not you. You're legitimate spoils of war, you know, and you belong to me. Right now that means chastity and pain; if you were more obedient it might mean something else, boy. But you've not been. So no pleasure for you right now, boy. Yes, I see the aphrodisiac is kicking in. Learn your lesson, pet."

"That's good. Keep going."

"Hmmmm. Never again will you so much as piss or get hard without my express permission. Hmmmm. When I wish to whip those balls of yours until you weep, I shall. In front of my daughters if I choose to; in front of my husband as well perhaps. A man in control of his own cock can watch one whose cock is owned, get owned. Yes. I'd like that."

"Excellent. Why not try this. Pumpkin, go around the circle here and show everyone what I own."

It was crushing and thrilling, but I yipped and crawled forward, towards the general, then knelt up in front of her. I tried not to cry as I thrust my caged cock and balls towards her, and then I just held position. Waiting. Making sure I had presented Master's property properly. Undeniably, my cock was his property: the general caught my eye and gave me a curt nod. I moved on to the next person in the circle, a younger woman who I thought was one of the general's daughters.