The truth is that I wasn’t particularly looking for a slave when I found him, and I don’t think he was looking for a Master when he found me. It simply happened, by accident and circumstance.

I have a good friend--I’ll call him Jim--a buddy from my undergraduate days at the state university. Jim was always a dependable drinking companion and study partner. He was a good-looking man, athletic without being a jock, naturally sturdy and strong. While I had my fantasies early in our friendship, he was commendably straight. He was also aware, possibly even before me, that I was not. As our friendship deepened, we came to share the details of our exploits in the easy and never duplicated way of undergraduates. One supposes, when one is 20, that deep friendships are always so easy and lasting. Alas, they are not.

In any case, Jim and I remained friends even after careers and new families took us to different parts of the country. Removed to the East, Jim settled into a lucrative career at an investment bank, eventually gaining a business partner and starting a hedge fund. He married and moved to a big house in the suburbs, perhaps expecting a brood of children that somehow never materialized. While we remained in touch, the easy intimacy of earlier years had long ago vanished. I never found out whether the lack of children was because of marital or medical difficulties or the result of an affirmative decision by Jim and his wife. In any case, they remained married. His wife, a lawyer, eventually gained some fame as the result of a clever appeals court brief that propelled her career forward and led to an appointment to the federal bench.

After I moved to the West, Jim and I still saw each other a few times a year. His business brought him to my city and my career brought me to his. We’d enjoy an overpriced expense-account dinner or an occasional late night bender and remember the old days.

So it was a little surprising when Jim called and said that he’d be in town for the weekend, and with a guest, to boot. Without thinking, I asked them to stay with me, and again to my surprise, he agreed.

When Jim arrived a week later, a teenage boy trailed behind him. Peter was 19, cute in a late teenage kind of way, a little smaller than average and a little thinner than usually catches my eye. He was of mixed race, although of which races it was hard to say. His black, wavy hair shielded bright brown eyes and a smooth, inquisitive face. His exposed arms and legs were lean and virtually hairless. He shook my hand firmly if shyly and with a bright smile.

It turned out that Peter was Jim’s project. For years, Jim had given money and time to an agency that helped disadvantaged youth. Peter had a troubled childhood—bouncing in and out of foster homes while his single mother worked through dead-end jobs, drugs and abusive boyfriends. Peter had done well in the public schools, despite it all, and been accepted into a respected, if decidedly third-rate, college down South. Jim had arranged the trip to the West, in part to get Peter away from his mother for a few weeks, in part to reward him for graduating from high school.

The three of us spent a laugh-filled weekend, complete with trips to the tourist traps I generally avoid. Jim and I regained some of the camaraderie of our youth, while Peter seemed happy to be along for the ride. He spoke haltingly and with embarrassment, which I credited to his background, the newness of his surroundings, and a touch of shyness. Nevertheless, I could tell that he was a good kid who had survived a difficult childhood and seem poised to finally make his way.

Then, on Sunday night, Jim took a frantic call from his business partner, who told him that a major client would unexpectedly visit on Monday afternoon and that his presence was required. Such are the twists of fate that change lives forever. When Jim announced the news of their hasty departure, Peter was understandably disappointed. Seeing this, I suggested that Peter stay on for an additional week; I would take a few days off, then put him on his ticketed flight in a week’s time.

While they both agreed to the plan, Jim nonetheless warned me to be careful. “Be good to him,” he said to me quietly while I helped him pack, “he’s a sweet kid and he deserves a break for a change.”

“I can see that he is,” I said. “He seemed so disappointed when you said you had to leave. And I’d enjoy some company for a few days, anyway.”

When Jim had gone, Peter and I had a cup of coffee on my patio. “Look,” he said, “I know you didn’t have to do this, but you don’t have to feel sorry for me. I get along pretty good, you know, all by myself. I really appreciate you letting me hang out for a while. But you don’t have to do anything special for me, I’m just happy to chill without the hassle of being home.”

“Actually, I’m really happy to have you here for a few days,” I said. “Jim and I are old friends, and anyone he thinks is worth spending time with undoubtedly is. Unfortunately, I do have to go to work this week. I can take off Thursday and Friday, maybe then we can drive out to the mountains. I have a cabin on a bit of land—we can go hiking and spend some time in the trees.”

“Wow! That sounds great. I don’t get many chances to be out of the city.”

“My cabin is definitely no-frills. There is a generator to power the lights and hot water, but no TV and no internet. But the view is fantastic and there’s usually no one around for miles other than the wild animals.”

“That will be interesting,” he said with a smirk.

“It will definitely be a change of pace. It takes a few hours to drive up, and I usually stop for groceries at a supermarket in the suburbs that’s on the way. Once we get up there, it’s about twenty miles to the nearest market, so there’s no such thing as a quick trip to the convenience store. And, the nearest year-round neighbor is a hard five-mile hike over a ridge.

“So, while I’m at work tomorrow, help yourself to whatever you’d like. I have plenty of food, my library is full of books, and I get about 400 channels on the TV that I hardly ever watch. Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” He said, “And don’t worry I can be trusted here while you’re working.”

We had a pleasant evening: I cooked some steaks on the barbecue, and we watched a movie on cable. I went to bed early, as I usually do, in order to get up early in the morning and beat the morning traffic.

I awoke in the middle of the night and was surprised to see a thin strip of light glowing from underneath my bedroom door. Apparently, the boy was still up. Thinking I should check on him, I pulled on some shorts. The door to his room was open, the bedside lamp was still on, but Peter was lying on his belly on top of the bedclothes, fast asleep, a comic book open to his side. He was also completely naked. While intending to close the door and leave him to himself, I stopped for a moment to admire the view.

Stripped of clothes, he was a fine looking lad. His body was smooth and slightly olive-colored. He was well-muscled, though not ripped, and His ass appeared to be firm and deep and almost hairless above the thin, dark hair on his legs. Thinking about the sight in front of me, I adjusted the erect penis inside my shorts.

He stirred: perhaps my footfalls had awakened him. Before I could close the door, he opened his eyes, turned his head to me, and asked sleepily, “Why are you leaving? Don’t you like the view?”

I had to admit to myself that the cocky kid routine worked for me. “It is a pleasant sight,” I said, still watching him.

He laid his head back down, put his arms above his head and arched his back, exposing his ass even more to me. That was an invitation if ever I saw it. I stripped off my shorts and was on him in an instant. On top of him, I pressed my hard penis against his hole. As I rubbed, I held his wrists together with one hand while I caressed his smooth skin. Surprising me again, he whimpered, “I’ve wanted you to fuck me all week.” I needed no encouragement. His hole was already wet with my precum. I spit on my free hand, slathered my dick, and pushed into him. I felt him spasm and yield as I penetrated him. He whimpered again as the full length of my penis slid into him. Pushed all the way inside, I held still for a moment for his ass to adjust. He was warm, moist, and surprisingly clean inside. His ass cheeks were hard against my groin while my balls touched him beneath his hole. Still holding his wrists with my left hand, I reached around with my right hand and held his genitals. His penis was hard but thin and short, and his balls were small and light. His pubic hair was not very thick and hadn’t been trimmed recently. I started to fuck him. As I did, his hips began working too, meeting my thrusts, and his hole tightened and loosened with my rhythm. Damn, I thought, he is a talented bottom. As I got close, I massaged his little penis so that just as I exploded into him with a powerful, deeply satisfying orgasm, he arched his back and a few drops of boy cum trickled from his dick. Holding his torso now with both hands, I stayed lodged inside of him as we rolled to our sides. His hands released, he wrapped an arm under his head, and the other reached back and held my hips tight against him. Wordlessly, we fell asleep together with his ass still wrapped around my dick.

I awoke to the sound of my alarm going off in the other room, still holding him. My soft penis had slid out of his hole, but the cum, sweat, and spit had congealed our bodies together. Tearing us apart, I got up to turn the alarm off.

As I showered that morning, I thought to myself that there were several ways I could play the hand dealt to me. I could tell him that it was a pleasant diversion that would not happen again, then go on and enjoy our week as originally planned. I could finish the shower, go in and fuck him again, fuck him repeatedly for the rest of the week, and then send him on his way. I could pretend that nothing had happened. Or, we could talk about what had happened and how we were feeling, in a decidedly California way. I did not consider apologizing: we were both adults and he clearly was up for it. As I thought more, I knew that he was a beautiful boy with a talented ass and that there was no doubt that if he stayed we would be sleeping together.

I did not consider, even for a second, that he would end up as my slave. While I had been in Dominant-submissive relationships before, and while I certainly like the idea of owning property to serve me, for whatever reason this situation didn’t appear likely. How wrong I was.

After I was showered and dressed, I went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. I expected Peter to be sleeping still. Instead, he was in the kitchen naked. Drops of my cum had leaked out of his hole and onto his legs. He had made a fresh pot of coffee and poured me some juice. He smiled broadly when he saw me, not the least bit embarrassed to be naked in my kitchen leaking my semen from his ass, not the least bit guilty about having been fucked in the middle of the night by a man almost old enough to be his father.

“Good morning,” I said. I was smiling too, realizing how satisfied a good fuck can make me and certainly enjoying the sight of an attractive naked boy leaking cum from his ass. “I thought you’d still be sleeping.”

“Well, I thought you might need some help,” he said.

I poured some coffee and splashed some milk and sugar into the cup. “Peter,” I said as I stirred, “that was quite a surprise last night. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable while you’re here, or to feel like you have to do something for me that you don’t want to.”

“Believe me, you didn’t force me do anything. And I’m very comfortable. Look at me; do I look like I’m embarrassed?”

I had to admit that he had a point. I smiled again and looked at him squarely. “Does your mother know about you?” I asked.

“I had a boyfriend in high school, but things got kind of weird during the last year. I haven’t talked to him for a few weeks. My mom is clueless. Believe me, she didn’t pay enough attention to notice that another guy was sleeping over all the time.”

“Interesting. Well, you definitely knew how to satisfy.” I said. “I really was just going to close the door, but I couldn’t help myself from taking a look.”

“I was hoping you’d see me, if not in the night, then maybe this morning.”

“You had it planned?” I asked, incredulously. He looked straight at me and raised his eyebrows.

“Well, this week is going to be a lot more interesting than I thought. So maybe we can just enjoy our time together and see what happens. OK?”

“That sounds great. Just one thing: can we keep this a secret from Jim? He warned me that you were gay, and then asked me if it would be OK if we came here. I pretended like it was a problem, but told him I wanted to get away for a while so bad that I’d go anywhere. He’d freak if he found out about me.”

It’s funny how a kid can be worried about the wrong thing. Jim would freak, all right, but he’d be pissed at me, not at Peter. “No problem, it’s just between us,” I said.

I spent a long Monday at work. I intended to leave early, but a late-scheduled conference call kept me in the office until 6:30. I would ordinarily visit the gym after work, but resolved to go home immediately. I had been thinking of getting into Peter’s ass again all day.

When I opened the door, I knew that something was different. Peter had evidently spent the day cleaning. The entry way had been dusted; the living room was vacuumed and straightened up. The smell of freshly-cooked Italian food was in the air. I found Peter in the kitchen. He had showered during the day, but was still naked except for cute little spots of red sauce on his tight torso. He had been busy cleaning my house and cooking me dinner. A smile of delight came to my face.

“What have you done?” I asked in mock disgust.

He looked at me and smiled, too. “I hope you like lasagna. You cooked for us all weekend; I thought you’d like a break.”

“Love lasagna. Love finding a naked boy in my kitchen, too,” I said. “Who knew you could cook and clean? And what’s this all about?” I said as I gently slapped his ass.

He smiled broadly. “Well, I always pretty much took care of things around the house, what with my mom coming and going. I can cook a few things anyway. And, I figured as long as I was here sitting around all day, I might as well earn my keep, and so I straightened up a few things. No big deal. And being naked, well, I just took them off, actually, after I spilled some sauce down the front of myself. But anyway, I wanted you to see that I’m very happy about what happened last night.”

I kissed him hard on the lips and gripped his ass with both hands. He was moist in his crack.

Noticing that I had noticed, he said, “I put a little olive oil down there just a minute ago, just to help you in next time.”

“Dinner will have to wait for a few minutes,” I said as I spun him around and pushed him against the counter. I had my clothes off in a second. Leaning him over the counter, I pushed my dry, hard penis against his oiled hole and slid in effortlessly. What a delightful trick that is, I thought. This time, I pulled his arms above his head and placed them on the counter. “Keep ‘em there,” I said. I grabbed his hips and thrust my full length into him. I touched his dick: hard as a rock. I fucked him more urgently and harshly this time, pounding his ass with abandon with the boy bent over in front of me. He held the counter tightly and pushed back against me.

As the punishing fuck continued, I reached down and noticed that his dick had gone soft. “Not enjoying it, boy?” I asked.

“It’s fantastic, Sir, please don’t stop.”

I had no intention of stopping. I came shortly after, blowing into him as deeply as I could. I heard him moan sweetly as I filled him. Just then, he tried to reach down to jerk himself off but I pulled his arms back above his head. “Just concentrate on your ass, boy, just your ass.” I pulled out slowly as he tightened around me. I leaned over him, catching my breath. The sweat from my chest mixed with the sweat from his back.

“You like the taste of olive oil, boy?” I said from behind him as I caught my breath. He understood immediately, turned, kneeled down, and began licking my penis for the first time. “Clean it off good,” I said. I held his head around my dick, forcing him to lick me clean.

When he finished, I kept him on his knees and pulled his chin up so he would look in my eyes. “We’re going to get along really well,” I said with a wide grin. “Thank you for cooking and cleaning for me today. Thank you for being ready for me when I came home. But here is the first rule of my house: I decide when and where you cum. You’ll have chances this week, believe me, but only when I decide. OK?” He nodded.

“It certainly looks like I’m going to fuck you a lot. Trust me, you’ll be a lot more eager and enjoy it a lot more if your dick doesn’t cum every time. And, you should know that it was fantastic for me, just now, when you were soft. It means you were concentrating so much on your ass that you forgot your dick. That’s hot.”

“I like the way I feel when you’re fucking me, Sir,” he said. “It was so intense that I got soft.”

“I think we’re both going to enjoy this week,” I said. “Now wash your hands, and while I get dressed again, why don’t you finish dinner?”

I gathered my clothes and went up to my room. After a quick shower, I slipped on some loose workout shorts, a T-shirt and some flip flops. This was the most surprising 24 hours I had ever experienced, I thought to myself. Maybe he could be more than a weeklong fuck buddy, I finally realized. He had surprised me with the cooking and cleaning. He was certainly pliant and attractive. The nudity was a brilliant ploy. And where did that “Sir” come from? I decided two things, right there at the top of the stairs. First, I had found my slave, whether he knew it or not. Second, I would take things slow. I had six more days to get him locked into a collar. There was time to be deliberate and, if needed, a bit crafty.

It must also be stated that I had no real idea on how to proceed. Perhaps in a fantasy world I would find him in the kitchen and say, “You will be my slave” and he would cry and say that it was what he always wanted. “Please cut off my balls and keep me a cage,” he would say. I knew that nothing of the sort would happen. I did feel a twang of guilt. He was at the beginning of his life: college, a career, all the joy that a life lived well can bring. I intended to take it all and use him for my own benefit. That’s the way it goes, I thought, as the guilt quickly passed.

A plan formed in my mind. Guide him down a path. Take one step at a time. Watch his reaction and adjust accordingly. Turn up the heat slowly. In several days, he will not have realized the journey he has been taken on, or the doors that have closed behind him. When the week is over, I hoped to have him begging to be my slave.

When I came back to the kitchen, he had two plates prepared full of lasagna and a green salad. “There are placemats in the drawer there,” I said, pointing. “Why don’t you put them on the table so we can eat?” I watched as he glided across the kitchen, dripping my cum onto his legs again. I took a towel from another drawer. “We’d better put this down on your chair first,” I said.

We ate dinner at the kitchen table; Peter, still naked, sat on the towel I had laid down to keep the oil and cum from leaking on my chair. It would prove to be the last time we ever ate while sitting at the same table. I asked him what he was thinking.

"Not much. I'm just enjoying being here--this house is so nice and I'm glad that you think I'm hot. I’ve never been fucked without a rubber before. I didn’t know it would feel so passionate. And, I never realized how hot it is to have cum inside me. I kept it in all day, reminding me of you."

“Well, at the rate we’re going, you’re going to have a lot of my semen swimming inside you. And its way better for me too, not only does it feel better, but I hate fumbling with the rubber when I want to plow a boy. And then, it’s a lot more satisfying to leave my cum behind inside you. By the way, I assure you that I’m clean. You have nothing to worry about.” I paused. “And, I definitely do think you’re hot. I have to ask you, though. While I was fucking you, you called me 'Sir.' Don't get me wrong, I liked it; you have my permission to keep it up. But, where did that come from?"

His face blushed. "Well, you said I could look in your library. There are a few books there that are about Masters and slaves."

Interesting, I thought. I forgot about those books.

"Did you read one?" I asked.

"Well, I read part of one anyway. The slave had to say ‘Sir’ all the time. I guess it rubbed off on me. It got me so hard." He looked down. "I'm sorry about this, but you didn't tell me until just now that I couldn't cum without you. I jerked off a couple of times reading that book."

"Well," I said, "you know now. What was exciting?"

"You know, I just liked the way the Master took care of everything. He was so much in control all the time. And the slave, well, he got fucked a lot. I think you know that turns me on."

I smiled knowingly and nodded. "I'm seeing that," I agreed. "But you didn't finish the book, huh?"

"Nope. I wanted to clean up a little for you, and get started on dinner. Besides, reading seems like work to me."

"I see," I said. "Can you go get the book you were reading? I'd like to see which one you were in."

He smiled, nodded at me, got up and walked from the kitchen. I noticed the smell as he walked by. I looked down at the towel; there was a large wet spot, and in the middle, a small patch of brown. It's definitely time to raise the temperature a few degrees, I thought to myself.

He came back in a minute, carrying an old paperback copy of "Slave's Surprise." I knew the book well, and had jerked off many times while reading or remembering it. It was a fantasy, really, about the life of a Master and his slave. There are two 'surprises' at the end of the book. The slave discovers that it has given itself away bit by bit, without even noticing. It awakens to find that it is bound, physically and emotionally, to its Master. It realizes it couldn't escape if it wanted to, and also realizes that it doesn't want to. When it is unshackled, its second surprise is that its genitals have been removed. It is just an ass and a mouth for its Master's pleasure. Hot all the way around, I always thought.

"Here it is, Sir," he said as he placed it on the table.

I looked at his seat and raised my eyebrows. "You better stay standing until we clean up your ass. Could you throw that towel in the laundry for me?"

"Yes, Sir," he said, a bit embarrassed. He grabbed the towel and bounded to the laundry chute in the corner of the kitchen.

"Now, about this book. I'd like for you to finish it tomorrow, and tell me all about it. Tell me what you think the surprise was. What parts of the slave's life you found most exciting and the most disagreeable. What parts that you had never thought about before. Really, anything you think is interesting and want to talk about. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, Sir," he said.

"Good, now why don't you get this kitchen cleaned up. I need to grab a few things from the garage."

I stepped out of the kitchen and into the garage while Peter began cleaning up. An odd feature of my house is a virtually inaccessible cellar room. It is about ten by fifteen feet, windowless with concrete walls and a pre-cast concrete ceiling. It is reachable only through a trap door and stairway in the back of the garage. Underneath the stairs was a toilet, water spigot, and a floor drain. The previous owner used the room as a wine cellar, and suggested it might have been intended as a fallout shelter when the house was built in the early 60's. Naturally, this room became my secret dungeon. I had added a large dog kennel, an examination table, and various hooks in the walls, ceiling and floor. A cabinet held a small collection of locks, ropes, paddles, and other devices. I had found the room to be virtually soundproof. A radio, turned at full blast, could barely be heard in the garage above and was completely inaudible outside the house. As technology improved, I added tiny cameras and microphones that were linked to my computer. I could view a prisoner in this room from anywhere in the world. To be honest, I had more fun putting the dungeon together than actually using it. I was not much of a sadist, and thought the value of a slave was having him work and serve, not in keeping him locked up. I also kept it a secret, not wanting every little trick I dragged home to find out about it. It would be another day or two before I brought Peter here.

I reached in the cabinet, dropped what I needed in a small bag, sealed the room again, and returned to the kitchen. I grabbed a half-gallon pitcher from the cabinet, adding it to the collection inside my bag.

"You just about done?" I asked.

He had stacked the plates in the dishwasher like a pro and was wiping down the countertops. "Yes, Sir," he said eagerly.

"Follow me upstairs," I said as I led him to the guest bathroom. I attached the short hose and enema attachment to the water spigot in the shower. "Jump in and get on your hands and knees," I ordered.

"OK, Peter, we're going to have to keep your ass clean. There are some who think of this as erotic, but I have to tell you, I think of this as a chore. We're going to squirt some water into your ass, you're going to hold it for a few seconds and then you’re going to blow it into the toilet. We'll repeat this a few times to make sure we got it all. We're going to do this for two reasons. First, I don't like to fuck shit. It doesn't feel good or smell good. I want to fuck a smooth, clean ass. Second, with my dick up your ass all the time, you're going to have less control over your hole--it's going to be looser than you're used to. If you were wearing clothing, you'd probably find yourself shitting your pants. Since you're naked, we don't want you shitting accidentally on the floor or the furniture, right?"

"Definitely true, Sir," he said.

"You're going to have to do this at least twice a day. Probably in the morning, after I leave for work so that you don't shit where you're not supposed to, and then just before I come home at night, so that I can fuck you cleanly all night. This pitcher holds two quarts of water. For now, we'll start with only one quart. You'll want to get the water the same temperature as your body, so run it for a bit until it is neither hot nor cold. Either very hot or very cold can cause damage to your rectum, which I would not appreciate." I turned on the water and let it splash onto Peter's arms and hands. "Seem about right," I asked.

"It's good, Sir," he said.

I turned the knob on the attachment, and the water began flowing. Holding the end over the pitcher, I began counting as it filled. When I had counted to twelve, the quart line was reached. I turned the knob back, directing the water out the regular spigot. “So we'll slide this in,” I said, “turn it on, count to twelve and then turn it off." I did just that, watching him as the water coursed into his hole. I turned the water off.

"Great. How does it feel?"

"Tight, full, Sir" he said. The hose was still in his ass.

"I'm going to pull this out. Squeeze on your hole as tight as you can so that the water stays in," I directed.

I pulled it out and his tight hole let hardly a drop of water escape. I set the hose down and rubbed his protruding belly. "OK, stand up, wiggle your hips a little bit to slosh the water around, and then sit on the toilet." He sat on toilet and expelled the water with a good bit of waste. We repeated the procedure three times, the last time producing clear running water. When it was over, I told him to shower.

"You did great," I said as I toweled him off. "You think you can do this without me tomorrow?"

"Yes, Sir," he said.

"Cool. Remember, one quart at a time. Maybe someday you can take more, but right now, take it easy. You can damage your colon easily enough if you force too much water in under pressure.”

“Yes Sir,” He nodded in agreement.

"In the cabinet, you'll find this lubricant," I said, grabbing a big bottle from the cabinet below the sink. When you're done cleaning yourself, dry off completely, then I want you to squirt some lube into your ass and rub some on your hole. Not so much that it drips out, but I want to be able to fuck you without having to fuss with lube." I squirted some in and rubbed his anus. I noticed that his dick was hard as a rock, sticking up just an inch above his pubic hair. That hair in his crotch would be tomorrow night's project, I thought to myself. "You think you can do all this for me?" I asked.

"Yes, definitely, Sir," he agreed.

"Great. There's one other thing," I said. I patted his erect penis and then pulled the chastity device from the bag. "While you're in my house, I want you to wear this. It will keep you from cumming when you're not supposed to. I will have a key to unlock it, and when I am here, I can take it off. Remember the first rule of mine that you learned: I decide when you cum."

He looked a bit wounded. "Sir, I'm sorry I came today when you weren't here," he said.

"I know you are," I said. "You didn't know you weren't supposed to, and this will prevent that from happening again." I slipped the device over his cock and balls and twisted the lock in place. His dick and balls were mine. A door closed behind him, though he didn't know it at the time.

The lock would be only a temporary fix, to be sure. I wasn’t sure when his little dick would get cut off, only that it wouldn’t be long.

I lead him to my bedroom, told him to lay face down on the bed, and fucked his ass for the second time that night. This time, he kept his hands above his head, while his dick was safely tucked inside my lock. I slid in effortlessly and buried myself in his moist, clean hole. I took my time pounding his ass, savoring a full stomach and an ass that was mine. I turned him over, pulled his ankles to my shoulders and fucked him face to face. I rubbed his armpits and thrust my tongue into his mouth. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into him. I groaned as I emptied into him again and his ass tightened around my dick. I pulled out and collapsed exhausted, next to him. A second later, I felt him carefully licking me clean. Looking down, I saw him concentrating on my softening penis. Beautiful.

Recovering my strength, I pulled my shorts back on and led him back downstairs to the TV room. There was time to catch the news before bed. "You should sit on the floor," I said. "We don't want stuff from your ass leaking on the furniture." He smiled and sat cross-legged on the floor next to my chair, seemingly careful not to let his wet hole touch the carpet. My semen swam inside him. His dick and balls were locked up tight and I had the only key.

I stroked his head with my right hand while I watched. "Peter, you have your assignment for tomorrow, right? Then, after you're done reading, perhaps you can mop the kitchen floor. I noticed a few drops of your ass juice on the floor tonight. And, why don't you see if you can go all day without putting on any clothes? Tomorrow night, I'll plan dinner, so you're off the hook for that. Sound OK?" I asked.

"Yes Sir, sounds perfect. And I don't think I'll have any problem going all day without any clothes," he said smiling.

That night, I fucked him twice more, then again in the morning before I got up. I had not had so much sex in years. When I got down to the kitchen after showering and dressing, I found him there with fresh coffee. Once again, he was leaking my cum onto his legs. It was almost enough to get me up again.

I steadied myself. "Good morning, sunshine," I said, genuinely delighted to have him there.

He saw me looking at the cum on his legs. "You're right, Sir, it is a little difficult to control myself this morning. I’m afraid that I’m dripping every once in a while."

"You'll get better at it," I promised. One way or another, I thought to myself.

After another exhausting day at work, I stopped at the gym. I pushed myself extra hard. I wanted to be as pumped as possible that night. I skipped the shower, and staying in my gym clothes, grabbed some takeout food from the natural food market on the way home.

I found Peter on the floor of the TV room, sitting naked on a towel and watching the latest comic book movie sequel. He rose when he saw me, ran to me, wrapped his arms around my shoulders, and kissed me on the lips. "I'm so glad you're home, Sir," he said, with evident eagerness.

"I'm glad to see you, too," I said as I switched off the television. "Tell me about your day while I dish us up some dinner." He trailed after me while I walked to the kitchen. As he spoke, I removed the cartons of food from the bag.

"Well, I read the book, just like you said, Sir. And your lock worked just like you said it would, too."

I smiled at him. The impertinence would go away later. "What did you think?" I asked.

"It was a big surprise for me, at the end, when the slave didn't have any cock or balls. But really, he had such a full life of service, he didn't really need them."

"I think you're right," I said, a little surprised by his answer. "The slave ultimately had given control over its life and body to its Master, which is an amazing, astounding thing to do. It takes a special boy who can realize that it is inferior, and that it will be happier and more useful as a tool, as property of a superior Man. Giving up control of its life will give the slave complete satisfaction, in the end. I think that is the surprise. That its life will be full, just not in the way it might have thought, and it will be much more complete as the property of a Master than it ever could be on its own." I looked straight into his eyes and saw that he understood. "Losing the cock and balls, well, I think that was just kind of symbolic. I agree it didn't need them, but I thought it was a metaphor for giving its Master complete control over its life."

"Yes Sir," Peter said, "I'd never thought about a slave as property before and what that really means. But if it's property, then the cock belongs to the Master too, right? The slave shouldn't profit from it, even to get pleasure from it. I mean, the Owner could do whatever He wanted to it, because it was His. And if He decides to take it off, the slave has to go along." He stopped and thought for a moment. "When I think about it, does your furniture get upset if you move it around? It's just property, right? I guess a slave is no different."

"Quite right," I said, amazed at what I had just heard. I put some of the food on a single plate and set it on the kitchen table. He looked at me, a bit confused. "Sit down here on the floor," I said. I hadn't planned to take this step just yet, but it seemed a perfect opportunity. "I'll give you some food to eat when I'm done," I told him. I sat down and started to eat. He sat on the floor to my right, waiting patiently. I continued the conversation, "So what about the slave's life. What was exciting to you? What was disagreeable?"

He looked down, a little deflated to be waiting for me to eat first. He perked up as the answers came to him. "I thought his life was pretty good, really. He—it—didn't have to worry about school, about paying the rent, about being accepted by friends. It just had to serve Him. The slave had to work hard around the house, but it never had to wonder where its next meal would come from or where it would spend the night. And it knew that it was loved, as long as it did what it was supposed to. So that was good. I didn't like the way the slave was beaten all the time. My mother or one of her boyfriends would beat me when I was a little kid. I didn't like it."

"Understandable," I said as I swallowed. I cleaned my mouth and furrowed by brow, wanting to phrase my next comment carefully. "Hardly anyone likes to be hurt. But you know, if the slave misbehaved, it was a certain way to correct it. And, like you said, the slave was property. If the Master, for whatever reason, wanted to punish the slave, the slave should not have a choice, right?"

"Yes, that's true," he agreed.

Finished eating myself, I started feeding bits of food to Peter, literally making him eat out of my hands. He seemed to enjoy being fed, smiling broadly as I playfully held bits of food for him to bite out of the air. I chewed some and spit it into his mouth. He swallowed eagerly. When one bit fell on the floor, I told him to lick it up without his hands. "You cleaned the floor today, right?" I asked. He nodded as he licked my kitchen floor. As I tired of the game, I put the plate on the floor. "Lick it up," I said.

While Peter licked the plate clean, I tossed away the empty cartons. "Finish cleaning up, then come upstairs," I said.

He joined me in my bedroom in a minute. I told him to kneel down while I stripped off my sweaty clothes. "Lean over the bed," I said. I wanted to see how he did with the enemas. As he leaned over, his ass was exposed. I pulled the cheeks apart with both hands and inspected his hole. It was lubed and a bit swollen and probably a little sore. I smiled to myself. With my right index finger, I probed inside of him. I slid in easily. Inside, he was moist but not watery, and completely clean for as deep as I could probe.

"Nice job, Peter," I said to him as I pulled out my finger. I immediately placed my raging hard on at the entry to his hole. "Beg me for it," I demanded.

"Please fuck me, Sir," he said without losing a beat. "I've been good today, Sir, please fuck me, Sir."

It was all I could do to hold back for a second. Before me was a beautiful ass, firm and smooth, cleaned and lubed, and I was about to own it. But there was a lesson to teach: "Why do you want me to fuck you?" I demanded. "It's not because you've been good. You're always going to be good." My dick was leaking precum, but I held it at his hole, teasing him. "Why faggot?"

He thought for a second. I felt his hole tighten as he said, "It's your ass, Sir, it wants you to fuck it because that's what it exists for. It's how it serves you, Sir.”

It was an excellent answer. I pushed into him quickly, wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pumped his ass. He groaned beneath me, tightening and loosening with expert precision. I came more quickly than I would have liked, but I could fuck him all night long if I wanted. There was no reason to hold back. Another door closed behind him.

I pulled him to his feet and turned him around. He looked a bit defeated. I kissed him hard and held him tight, my softening dick pressing against his groin. "You're doing great," I said looking into his eyes. "Everything is going to be OK. You trust and believe in me, right?"

"More than anyone I've ever known, Sir," he said.

"Then you have nothing to worry about," I said. "All is well." I reached for my keys and unlocked his chastity device. "Let's set that free for a little while." Uncaged, he was immediately hard.

"Thank You, Sir," he said.

I led him to the bathroom in the appropriately named Master's suite. It had a large shower that was big enough for two, a big tub with Jacuzzi, and walls of mirrors. I stood him in front of the floor length mirror. From a drawer, I pulled out some clippers and removed the guard. They buzzed as I turned them on.

"Hands above your head," I ordered. He put his hands high in the air, exposing his armpits. In a minute, they were shorn smooth. I moved down, removing the thin hairs on his belly and cleaning off his crotch. I turned him around and clipped off the little hair on his ass and the few strands in the small of his back. My powerful clippers were no match, even for the congealed lube around his hole. Then I started on his legs, moving up and down methodically. When I was done his body was clipped smooth. I would have him shave with a razor tomorrow, but for now, this would do. I left the hair on his head, thinking that it would go, too, in due time.

I stood behind him, my hands rubbing his ass, as he looked at himself in the mirror. Hairless, he looked a lot younger than he really was. I smiled at him. He saw me and smiled too. I led him into the shower, leaving his hair on the floor. As we finished washing each other, I slid into his ass again, fucking him standing up while the warm water washed over us. His smooth, tight body felt perfect working against mine. This time, as I came, I masturbated him too, and a few drops of boy semen dribbled out of his smooth slave dick and onto the floor.

"Thank you for letting me cum, Sir" he said as we toweled off. "I thought you might not ever let me."

"You're welcome," I said. "But I have to tell you it won't happen very frequently. If you stay with me, you'll have to learn to concentrate on your ass and my dick and get all the pleasure you can from getting fucked."

"I think I understand, Sir," he said. "And believe me, I like that, too, but I still enjoyed you making me cum."

I smiled. He was sweet, a little innocent, and was understandably trying to negotiate with me.

"OK, time for the lock," I said, trapping his genitals again. "In the other bathroom, there are some razors and shaving cream. Tomorrow, after you clean your ass, I want you to shave your body. You'll do this everyday from now on, OK? I don't want any hair on your body other than on the top of your head and around your eyes." He nodded in understanding. "And sweep up this floor for me, will you? Then come find me."

I stepped into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and started re-packing my gym bag for the next day. Shit, I thought, we're supposed to go to the cabin on Thursday. I had a few things to arrange, and we needed to take a couple more steps before he's ready. He had finished toweling off and was going downstairs for a broom.

For Peter, the next day was another day of cleaning my house. I had told him what to cook for dinner before I left. For me, another long work day, followed by another brutally difficult workout.

I arrived home in sweaty workout clothes and found him in the kitchen, finishing dinner. He was shaved smooth and naked, just as I had told him to be. He saw me and jumped into my arms.

“How’s my pussy boy tonight?” I asked.

“Good, Sir, worked hard all day,” he said. “Sir, it’s been difficult to wear this lock today. I’ve been hard most of the day, thinking about you inside me all night. I wanted to cum so bad.”

“It will take some time to get used to,” I said, thinking that was the perfect lead in to what I had planned.

I told him to follow me. I walked into the garage, told him to close the door to the kitchen, and opened the trap door. I flipped the light on, and taking him by the hand, I led him to my dungeon. Down the stairs, I could feel him tense up.

"Don't worry, it's a fun room, not a scary room," I said. "You want to serve me, right? I promise you won't be damaged. This is just a part of you serving me." I tried to make it as innocuous as I could. I saw him looking around: the table, the cage, and the hooks.

"Yes Sir," he said gingerly.

"Trust me," I said, looking straight in his eyes. He looked down and nodded.

I positioned him in the middle of the floor, put a thick, wide leather collar around his neck and attached it to a chain hanging from the ceiling. I connected a set of ankle restraints and attached them to eye hooks in the floor, spreading his legs apart. He was locked in place, though his hands were free. I unlocked his cock and removed the restraint. His hairless penis was soft in my hand; he was trembling.

"Trust me," I said again. From behind, I pushed my hips against his ass and caressed his smooth chest and pits. My cock was hard inside my shorts, but it would stay put for now. I stepped back, rubbed his ass, and probed him with my fingers. With a free hand, I reached to his now hard dick. I started masturbating him slowly, just to get him fully aroused. I stepped away and reached for the paddle. He didn't know it was going to hit him before it landed squarely across his buttocks, propelling him forward. He screamed before regaining his balance.

"You want to cum, boy? Go ahead, jerk off,” I said softly and calmly. “You said you like to cum, let me see it." I landed another whack across his buttocks. His right hand pumped his dick furiously; his left held the collar, keeping him steady. I lined up another paddle, more powerful than the first two, and that pushed him off his feet again. Only the quickness of his left hand saved him from hanging. He started sobbing, but kept stroking his dick. Whack!

"Cum, faggot. I thought you liked to cum." Whack. "You're going to keep getting hit, Peter, until you blow." Whack. "I can keep doing this for a long time." Whack. His ass was beet red, but I wasn’t hitting him hard enough for it to blister. Whack. Still crying, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. Whack. "CUM!" Stroking furiously, he groaned and trickled his drops of boy cum onto the concrete floor.

I put down the paddle and gently rubbed his reddened ass. He would remember this for a long time. "What were you thinking of when you came, Peter?" I asked.

"Thinking of you fucking me, Sir," he sobbed. "Thinking of how that was better than anything."

He was still crying when I stood in front of him and hugged him. I wiped the tears from his face and kissed him squarely. "Anytime you want to cum," I said looking in his eyes, "I want you to think of this. Was it pleasurable? Do you want to do it again?"

"No, Sir," he whimpered. Another door closed silently behind him.

"I wouldn't think so. And I can make it a lot worse than that, slave," I said, surprising myself by using the word 'slave' for the first time with Peter. "Do you want to go again, slave? You want to cum again?" I asked as I rubbed his ass again menacingly.

"No, Sir, I don’t want it to hurt,” he said quickly. “I only want it to feel good.”

I removed the restraints and laid him down on the exam table, his red ass in the air. I rubbed a bit of cooling antibiotic salve on his wounds. He was particularly warm inside when I entered him.

The next day, I think we were both happy to get to the cabin. It is not much to see, I admit, but I own it outright and love that it lets me get away from it all. I have a fantastic view of the mountains and the valley beyond, and the cabin's remoteness is part of its charm. Inside is a small kitchen, a table, a small living room with a fireplace, a bedroom and a bathroom. Water is supplied by a rain catch in the hill above, electricity by a small generator that supplies enough power for a few lights, a small refrigerator, a hot plate, and a small hot water heater.

We grabbed our bags and brought them in. Without prompting, he took off his shorts and shirt.

"Do you need this chastity lock on?" I asked. "Or will you be good?"

"I'll be very good, Sir, I promise."

I removed the chastity lock, leaving him completely nude in the late afternoon sunlight.

"Why don't you put this stuff away while I get the generator going?" I suggested.

Filling the generator with gas and getting it started took a few minutes. When I returned inside, the groceries had been put away and Peter was making the bed. There were two things I wanted to do that weekend: fuck Peter incessantly and hike in the woods. It was time to get started. I took off my clothes, pushed him onto his back, held his feet in the air, and fucked him.

When he finished licking my penis clean, I put on some cargo shorts and a T-shirt and laced up my hiking boots. "Let’s go, Peter, we're going to go for a little hike. Just put on some socks and shoes.”

He looked at me a little inquisitively. "You want me to hike naked?"

"Right, you don't need any clothes. We are completely alone. You can carry my backpack with some water, and we'll keep a pair of shorts in there in case we see someone. Otherwise, it’s just us out there."

"Yes, Sir," he said as he pulled on socks and shoes. His ass was still welted and sore, and I could see drips from his loose, wet hole. He trusted me completely, I realized. Another door closed behind him.

We spent the weekend just as I hoped. Peter was naked the whole time. When we weren’t hiking, I was fucking him. After dinner on Saturday night, I told him to sit at the table across from me. The fire raged next to us.

"Peter," I said, "it has been an amazing week. I don't have to tell you everything I've tried to teach you, but I think you've learned a lot and come a long way. You at least have an idea of what life could be like if you were with me. There is still much to teach you about, much to train you to do, if you will join me. I think you know what I want you to be. Peter, I want you to stay with me and be my slave. If you decide you will be my slave, be aware that you are giving yourself to me. Deciding to be my slave is the last decision you will ever make. You will serve me however I decide: sexually, physically, emotionally. You will labor for me, live for me, give yourself to me. You will wake and sleep when I decide, where I decide, how I decide. You will have no say, no opinion, no voice I do not give you. I will own you, completely and irreversibly. You will no longer be human and no longer male. You will be my property. There will be no backing out and no escape. I'm not going to sugar coat it, the training from here will be intense and frequently uncomfortable. When you come back, I’m going to cut off the hair on your head and then we’ll see about that cock you don’t really need. You may not recognize yourself when we are done reformatting you as my slave. On the other hand, you will never want for food or shelter. In your slavery, you will be completely free to serve me without limits or exceptions.” I paused and looked at him. “Peter, be my slave!"

He looked at my face, then down quickly He started to cry. "Sir, I want to be your slave more than anything I have ever wanted." He knelt at my side and looked up at me. "Sir, I beg you to accept me as your slave."

I was embarrassed, to myself, that I was hard as a rock inside my shorts. This wasn't even mostly about sex, but it was in part about sex, and my penis was showing its happiness. I pulled his head to my chest. "From this moment, Peter no longer exists. You are my slave forever." I kissed the top of his head and held him for several minutes.

"OK, slave, you still have to go back tomorrow to tie up details from your old life. Listen carefully to what I tell you. You're going to step off the plane in New York as if nothing was different. However, you are not the same as you were when you left, you are now My property. My lock will be on your dick and can only be removed by me. The clothes will chafe your shaved skin. The shoes will be uncomfortable after days of being barefoot. Your ass will heal a little bit, and you might even get to shit naturally one last time. After a good night's sleep, on Monday, you're going to tell your mother that you're going to go to school early, that a friend will take you, and that you're not sure when you'll be back. Tell her you'll call her. From what you've told me, she won't realize that you're gone for a while. You're going to call one or two friends who might care and tell them you're going to go stay with a relative somewhere until school starts. You're going call Jim, thank him for a nice time on your trip, and tell him you're happy to be back. Tell him you’re thinking of going to visit some relatives. You'll promise to call him in a few weeks. Then you're going to gather up any documents you have: driver's license, ID's, passport, birth certificates, school records, whatever you have. You're going to go to the bank, and close all your accounts. You're going to pack the documents into a small duffel bag with a few clothes. You should realize by now that you won't need a lot of stuff. Take nothing that doesn't explicitly belong to you. If there is some doubt in your mind that somebody would come look for you in order to get something, leave it behind. You're going to have to be quick and single-minded. You will have a half day to accomplish these tasks. Can you do it?"

"Yes Sir, your slave can do it," the slave said.

"What will you do?" I was interrogating, just to make sure it understood.

Peter quickly recited my directions. "Excellent. Tomorrow afternoon, take the duffel bag and get on a bus to the airport. Do not take a cab. You will use fake identification to get on a flight that I will arrange to the city near here. When you arrive, I will pick you up. No one should know where you have gone or why. You will not be able to contact me in any way until I pick you up at the airport. Do you understand?"

"Yes Sir," the slave said.

"Good. To the rest of the world, Peter will have disappeared. There will be no further record of your existence and no reason to connect you to me. You will be free to serve me however I need you to serve me. Nothing can go wrong, if you follow my instructions exactly. If you fail to show up, for whatever reason, I will find you in New York . You are my slave, I have every right to take you by force if I need to. I assure you that will be unpleasant for you."

"Nothing will go wrong, Sir," it said.

“In order for you to truly be my property, I will have to let you go. When you come back to me, nothing will ever come between us.”