Master's Visit

It had been a long trip to the middle of nowhere. Idiot lived in the middle of the woods like a goddamn hermit, the kind of place where the internet could only come via satellite, where the water lines didn't even run. Surrounded by mountains and trees; the main road branched off half an hour ago and GPS had no idea that the address he fed it even existed. He had gotten lost for hours in the backwoods redneck hellhole; stopped for directions at a gas station that obviously existed solely as a front for a meth lab, and got even MORE turned around. By the time he actually made it, it was so late it was early, and the little prize waiting for him was more than ready, he was desperate. He had been drinking, tho he swore he wasn't drunk, "just enough to take the edge off; it's the first night I've had to relax in forever" wasn't as convincing when the next second he was tackled, berated for being late, and then begged in intoxicated desperation.

"Baby I need to get my stuff from the car," he explained calmly, the rational one, "And you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk," the tone in his lover's voice was needy, bordering on whiny, "I'm tipsy." But the man was already at the door, already heading onto the porch so he followed, determined to be useful, "Need any help?"

The man answered with a laugh, "You'll fall off the porch, dumb-ass. Wait for me inside."

Apparently, this direction was headed immediately, his obedient little pet, because when he came inside, it was to see the poor desperate boy packing a pipe; an image that made him think of the doting mid-century housewife, come to bring him his pipe and slippers. He chuckled, and with half a smile commanded, "I'm going to take this to the bedroom. You have that packed by the time I get back."

"Of course, daddy," the boy purred, chancing only a fleeting glance at him as he disappeared through the doorway, amazed at how quickly he seemed to exude control, to take the house in as his domain.

And sure enough, by the time he returned, he did have it ready to go, and motioned for him to come to the couch, to lay down and relax; after all it had to have been a taxing night.

"Did you get lost?" he asked as the man crawled under him, allowing him to run his fingertips over the skin under his shirt.

"Why do you live in the middle of fucking nowhere? This is crazy. Goddamn gps tried to run me into a river." He replied, petting his hair, as the boy pushed up his shirt to give him access to his muscular torso, "the hell are you doing?"

"It's just been so long," the boy whimpered, leaning down to kiss a gentle line down the convex curve of his abs.

His master pulled himself into a seating position to shake him off, "Don't you want to smoke first?"

"I've probably gone through an eighth waiting on you," he replied, burying his head in his lap, "You kept me waiting."

"Well I want to smoke. I've been driving for six hours."

"Smoke," the boy replied, and kissed the crotch of his pants.

"V," he warned, but the boy just hummed lazily. He sighed, sat the pipe down and grabbed the boy by the throat, hauling him over his lap, using him as a sort of arm rest, "Be good for one bowl, ok?"

The boy whined up at him, and it seemed to get his attention, because he managed to hike him up enough to get his pants undone before he picked up the pipe and put the flame to it. His pet seemed to give in to his fate and snuggled against him, erection grinding into his thighs.

"Aww," he squeezed his ass lovingly, only producing more squirming, "Did you miss me?"

His lover arched his neck to look up at him but couldn't quite manage it in the position he was in; didn't know if the question was rhetorical or not, and so chose to respond, "God so much. You know I jack off every time we Skype, I want you so fucking bad..."

His master gave a happy hum, watching him squirm, "Mmm, I know baby. I like seeing you cum for me. I like watching you wiggle like this too." He took a long drag from the pipe, "But I think you're drunk."

"Goddamn it, I'm not drunk," and it was definitely a whine this time, like a child caught after he had broken something.

"I think you are. You should have waited for me. Now you get to wait until tomorrow."

"What?" He tried to turn, to read his face, to see if he was serious, but a firm slap to his ass put a stop to that, "I'm not, I swear. And if I was, would it matter?"

"I want you to remember this tomorrow. It's special, right? Our first day of pride, all alone, together."

His pet whimpered in affirmation, then added, "I will remember it".

"You sure?" his lover asked, a puff of smoke now collecting on the ceiling, as he slipped his hand under the boy's pants, to fondle his ass, skin on skin, causing him to wiggle again, "Maybe in the morning I should give you a test."

"What do I get if I win?"

"That's a tough question. You're difficult to reward. Well... difficult to punish. What do you want?" He moved lower prodding at his entrance

The squirming turned to a shudder of anticipation. "Really? ...If I get to pick," he hesitated, not in thought but because they had had this conversation before and he knew the answer already, "I want you to choke me until I pass out. I want to wake up with your cum inside me."

"I'm not going to kill you," the boy on his lap let out a moan as he pushed one finger inside, "pick something else,". He arched an eyebrow in confusion. This wasn't right. This was different. So different that he set the pipe down to investigate further. "What the hell did you do?"

"Huh?"

He couldn't tell if it was a drunken bliss or a 'waited all night for some human contact' bliss that was clouding his poor pet's mind.

"Why are you so tight? What did you do?"

"I um... might be a little," he arched into his hand, fingers gripping at the fabric of the couch, "swollen."

"Why?"

There was a long pause, as a coat of blush rushed to his little love-slave's face. When his question went unanswered, he withdrew his hand, leading to a predictable wail of, "Nooooooo."

He slapped his ass, hard this time, and repeated, "Why are you swollen."

The boy whimpered, putting on his cutest face and snuggling into his chest like a cat.

"Vince," He warned; serious voice this time. He wasn't about to risk ripping him on the first night of their week-long get together.

"Fine. I..." the boy buried his face, pissy now, "Got a little carried away with the strap on I guess."

His master slapped him again, harder this time, enough to leave a red hand-print under the fabric, "Goddamn it, how many fucking times have we both told you that you can't be trusted to make that call yourself?" The boy whimpered again, this time in pleasure and pain as he continued, "I'm going to fucking call her and tell her what she's done."

"No!" he did turn around this time, panic in his face; enough panic to risk a real beating, "No! I have no idea what time it is there and I hate it when you guys talk about me!"

"You love it when we talk about you, you egotistical little prick. Don't fucking lie to me." He was angry now, "You're swollen. And drunk."

"Well... fuck it, fair enough. But still! Don't call her. She'll be pissed and you're pissed..."

"V, I'm not pissed. Turn around." he laughed, "Don't be so dramatic." After the boy obeyed he added, "And pull your pants down."

He obeyed, sliding them down, exposing himself.

"Though," his master continued, "I should be. You don't take care of your body."

"I know..." came the pathetic response.

"I wanted to play with it. Now you might rip. You have no self control," he had gone back to groping him as he spoke, "Or consideration for other people." He moved his hand down, between his legs, brushing against his balls, causing him to shudder. He grabbed a chunk of hair with his free hand, pressing his face into the fabric. "Hands behind your back."

The boy moaned in joy as he obeyed. His master had a firm grip on his erection, and yanked it down, resting against the outside of his knee so the friction of the fabric would entice his already miserable prey, "So now we have to wait. After I spent all that time." The boy shuddered under him as he let go of his hair and moved to wrap the hand around his pet's wrist, pressing them painfully into his back and forcing him to arch. He smiled at the moan of pleasure the mindless little slave let out, already lost in subspace. He was so easy.

"How are you going to make it up to me, you selfish little shit?" He accentuated the question with another firm slap.

"Can I... if you don't want to fuck me, can I suck you off while you smoke?" He begged, wriggling against him, trying to get that tiny bit of traction against his throbbing cock.

"Why should I let you do that? You think you deserve another dick after how you've already fucked up?"

"Please?" The piteous whine; he wasn't putting on an act, but it played like the perfect pathetic little sex-crazed slave.

"Begging isn't a reason," he accentuated this with another slap; his favored little slut had to be burning now, his ass was visibly reddened.

"I don't have a reason," the poor thing was so desperate now it was crying, "Just please, let me try."

He smiled again, moved his free hand to the boy's throat- he could be so cute when he tried. He squeezed playfully, causing a sharp intake of breath, half closed eyes- before it was over all too quickly and the boy let out a whine of disapproval.

"All right. But I want to see how long you can go. You probably can't get me off; you're too drunk." He slid his legs apart, a hand on either side of his lover, slowly, steadily lowering him between, "Keep your hands where I can see them."

But his hands were already hard at work, undoing the button of his dress pants, pulling down the zipper; "Can I take these," he started to ask, but his master's hand was gripping at his hair again, pulling by the roots and forcing him forward. He took the hint, let his fingers dig into the fabric of this thighs as he lapped gently at the swollen head of his cock; it had been so long he had forgotten the sheer size of the man's body; the sheer strength of his grip was enough to make his own cock drip in anticipation. He stuck his tongue the urethra, tickling, gentle, teasing; ran it along the tip in an ever widening spiral, until he reached the place where it connected to the thick shaft. He wrapped one hand expertly at the base as he sucked on the underside, gently running just the tip of his tongue over the sensitive place where the nerves gathered.

He had lied; he was a little drunk. More than he had let on. But he liked it; it gave him the fluidity he needed to relax his muscles, to tame his gag reflex as he moved in to take the entire thing. But not yet. The head filled his mouth and he felt something pooling up under his stomach as he felt the weight on his tongue. His master had fallen silent, but the grip on his hair had relaxed; he wasn't sure if that was a good sign, but there was a part of him that liked being ignored; being a tool, not a human; something that could just help him relax, have a purpose, a simple purpose. For these few minutes he knew what he was, where he was, what he was doing.

He was no longer being gentle. He sucked in earnest, for everything he was worth, and swallowed. He hummed in happiness, an involuntary reflex, but one that worked to his advantage nonetheless, causing his throat; his full, aching throat to vibrate against his master's cock, and he spread his legs a little, anything to get lower, to be able to take more of him in. His own cock was leaking now, tip pressed to the couch; the smooth fabric caused another hum as a jolt of electricity passed from the head up and down his spine, and he took a breath through his nose and pressed the dick even deeper down his throat; he met his hand, moved it to grip his master's thigh for leverage and kept going. Finally, he hit the skin, the few coarse hairs that had grown back since this morning where, he noticed in a daze of joy, he had shaved for him.

And he gave himself a second, just to feel the pulsating warmth inside him; filling him completely, making it difficult to breath: he was in pain, his throat was sore and fought against him, and that pain was bliss; he was completely under control, spellbound. He wanted to stay like that forever. He swallowed again, just to get rid of the saliva that threatened to spill over, and felt the thick, warm mass inside him convulse. He moaned at the jolt of energy it sent through his entire system and forced himself not to hump the couch. He could feel his own precum leaking down his painfully stiff cock as the muscles in his arms contracted and he pulled himself up.

The pain in his throat was unbearable as it emptied; he involuntarily opened his mouth to let out a little scream, but silenced it as soon as he regained control of his senses. He was moving his entire body up, not just his head: deep breath, and swallow. He took him to the base again, and the second time, he remembered he had a tongue. He let the flat part ride the vein across the bottom and lap at the nerves under the head as he moved. He was so caught in his own world that it took him a few minutes to hear his master's noises of pleasure. He was panting, grabbing at the fabric of the couch, his precious pipe forgotten as he watched the boy bobbing, eyes closed, euphoric, making all those little hums and moans; he was in heaven.

"Look at me," he commanded, and his slave's eyes shot open, forcing him out of his little micro-cosmo, the little world in his head. He remembered that he was accomplishing something with this, bringing pleasure to someone else, and he spread his knees even further, practically split even with the floor now, his balls barely touched the cold hardwood and he moaned around the cock down his throat. Suddenly his master had him, a strong grip on either side of his head and all thought ceased as he felt something warm and wet and salty; forceful spurts, not the neat controlled little tablespoon that you see in porn, but a hot mess shooting, again and again against the raw meat of this ripped up throat. He moaned contentedly, pulling back so he could taste it, sucking gently; he knew how sensitive his master; anyone could be, milking the shaft with his hands as he swallowed around the head.

All too soon it was over. His head jerked back with a disappointed moan as his lover pulled out, growling, "Good boy," and gently stroking his hair, massaging his neck. He snuggled his head against his half flaccid cock and kissed the shrinking shaft before pushing himself up a little, his own dick so hard it hurt to kiss his master's abs.