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Houseboy: Sunday
🕑 Added 2021-01-30 18:25:48 +0000 UTCSunday mornings are the best.
You wake up in the soft light of the morning, in your Master's bedroom. In your Master's bed with your body pressed against his naked body, and you feel happier than you've ever felt in your life. This is what life is supposed to be about, these are the moments that make life worth living.
He's still asleep, resting face down with an arm thrown possessively around you, and even in his sleep his power over you is absolute, his presence is so commanding that you wouldn't dare disturb him. You just settle under his arm and enjoy this perfect moment.
Time doesn't matter when you are with your Master. One minute, one hour, who cares? You make the best with the time you get, because you know eventually it will be over. You wait and look at him and fill your eyes with the absolute perfection of him.
If someone asked you why you love him, why you obey him and submit to him, you would only have to point at him to show why. Just look at him. Just look at how perfect he is, how dominant he looks, how every single part of him is full with power and beauty. A part of you knows that it's your perception of him is distorted by your relationship, that you want to see him like that, but it doesn't matter. The feelings you feel are real. Just look at him... and keep looking at him until he wakes up.
He smiles and pulls you closer to start the day with a kiss, and you just melt in your adoration of him. You become a submissive mass of desire that lives only to please him and he doesn't even have to say a word to claim you as his slave and property.
All it takes is a kiss.
He pulls you on top of him and you press on him so hard it's like you're trying to become one with him so you can stay like this forever until you take your final breath together. And you kiss him. And you kiss him again. And you just keep kissing him, happy to show how much you love him and how deeply you submit to him. Your entire body is an instrument of pleasure and you're willing to use it in any way he likes, and the pleasure he gets is the only reward you need.
You know all the sensitive spots in his body and where he likes to be touched and licked and bit and sucked, and what exactly you need to do to turn him on. You know this little spot in his ear where your tongue can do magic, you know how his nipples respond to your teeth, and know the secret language of sex that your lips can speak on the middle of his neck.
Worship is not an action, it's a state of mind when you let your whole mind be consumed by him and his presence, when you fade into the background and become only the act of submitting to him, when your entire mind surrenders and burns into ashes in your perception of him and his power.
You go down and bury your face in his armpit and lick it, loving the scent because it's the scent of him, and his hand is caressing your head and pushing you down, down, and you leave a trail of kisses on his chest and stomach and continue down his body until you reach his cock.
It's already hard and waiting for your mouth, a lovely red head full of lust and power. You have to serve it. You exist to serve it. The ultimate purpose of your existence as his slave is to serve it.
You know his cock by heart, as if your entire body was designed for it. It fits exactly in your mouth and your throat like they were cast in a mold meant for him. And no words could describe how it feels and tastes, because the reality is that it feels and tastes like him and nothing else can live up to it.
The raw animal hunger from last night is gone. Sunday mornings are a space for sensual lovemaking, a slow burn consuming you until you can't take it anymore and you climb on top of him and kiss him, your tongue against his tongue and his cock rubbing on your ass.
Last night he took you, he owned you, he fucked you while you were a helpless rag that let him have his way with you. But today you're giving yourself to him and he just lies on his back and lets you love him. You move your hips back and forth, working his cock slowly inside you, and when you look at him in a silent question he smiles at you and nods.
He wants you to do it. He wants you to get that cock in your ass and that means you want it more than anything in the world. One more thrust on your hips and suddenly his cock is past the entrance, and in the next movement you impale himself completely on him, loving the feeling, loving everything that you're doing to him and how much he's liking it.
He's looking at you while you fuck yourself on his cock, and then he closes his eyes and all his body relaxes, letting you please him as you fuck him and use your body to give him pleasure.
There is no hurry, it's not like the fierce overtaking on your body he made last night. This is a sensual lovemaking that both of your extend as much as you can until he's ready, and his climax fills you with cum and pride and joy for having served him once more.
You didn't cum. Your cock didn't even get hard in all this time, because your body is good only for one thing, and that thing is giving him pleasure. Your own pleasure doesn't matter and right then all he needed was your ass. You don't need an orgasm of your own when his is more than enough.
In Sunday mornings life is slower and quieter and so much better than any other hour in any other day. The shower is a space where you revel in the shared reality of your naked bodies, playing and kissing and having fun under the hot water. He washes you and somehow it's an act of control as powerful as fucking you. You wash him, and somehow it's an act of worship as devout as opening up for him to fuck you.
In Sunday mornings, you cook breakfast for your Master and you get to sit next to him and look at him while he eats a breakfast so late that it's past noon because you took so long fucking and showering and enjoying yourselves.
You slid slowly into the afternoon, cuddling in the sofa under a blanket and watching a movie. You only half kinda notice the movie, the rest of your mind is focused on him, enjoying his skin touching your skin and how his hands explore you. This isn't even sex, just completely satisfied desire and mutual acknowledgement of your bodies.
He orders pizza.
Once the movie and the pizza are over he looks at the golden light on the outside and orders you to work out for him in the living room. Naked.
You feel comfortable showing off for him. He owns your body and can use it however he wants, and if he wants to see it working out he will. You fall into an easy, simple rhythm that you know from all the times in the gym, keeping yourself in shape as it's your duty. One, two, one, two, one... two...
Your muscles bulge and a slight patina of sweat makes your body glisten under the golden afternoon light...
One...
He's sitting in front of you like a king in his throne, stroking his cock slowly and enjoying the view of your body doing what bodies do...
Two...
It happens again. The slave mindset. You focus so hard on the sight of your Master, stroking his cock while watching your nude, obedient body working out for him, that you lose track of yourself.
One...
He curls his finger in a silent call. He wants you there and you cannot resist. You don't even try. Resisting isn't even a concept when your Master is calling you. You put the weights down and walk to him and he kisses you and then he tells you what he wants you to do.
Your cock gets rock hard in a couple heartbeats and you push his legs up and expose his ass and lube it, and gently get your cock inside him. It's not always that you get to fuck him and when it happens fills you with pride and joy. Someone looking from the outside may think that he's submitting to you, but you know the truth: He's using you and you're being used exactly the way he wants. If he orders you to fuck him you do it, not because you want it but because he does.
He would never be fucked by another man, but you're not a man. You're his slave, his toy, a living dildo, a hot body with a hot cock that he uses the way he pleases.
You jerk him off and find the right spots that drive him crazy and in a few minutes he's squirming and buckling, and when you reach and twist his nipple his entire body goes rigid and he cums in your hand. You don't even need to think about it: His cum belongs in your mouth. And then you pull out and with a couple strokes and the flavor of him dripping down your throat you start spasming and squirting your cum in the floor in front of him, like an offer of submission. He owns your orgasm.
Again, no questions: You bow down and lick your cum off the floor because that's what slaves do.
And then... it's time to say goodbye.
You go to the bathroom to clean up a bit and return to find him sitting on the sofa like a king in his throne and you know what comes next.
It's the reverse of your arrival, but at the same time it's the same. You kneel in front of him and go down to kiss his feet, thankful for having been given the chance to serve him these two days. You would like to stay forever, but both of you know that you have a life to return to.
He looks at you and his presence is so commanding and powerful that you can't notice anything else. It's just him and his face and his words filling your consciousness, and when he thanks you for serving him and calls you a good boy, you feel a joy and pride so deep and so complete that nothing can compare to them. More than the sex, more than the work, more than anything, these moments are the ones that keep you forever bound to him. This is your reward, and this is what keeps you coming back to him, time and again, whenever he wants to call you.
When he's done he reclines back and you slowly get out of your reverie. You are still completely devoted to him and eager to please him, but you're ready to return to the world outside, to your house and your job and the rest of your life, after living the red hot simplicity of servitude for the last two days. He takes your collar off and uses the key to open the safe and give you back your belongings, the marks of you as a person instead of a slave.
You then look at him deeply, longingly, one last time, and then raise and with every step you walk towards the door you recover a bit more of yourself. Your clothes are waiting for you there, and when you get dressed you're almost back being you, as much as you can be you when you know you carry inside a slave that waits for the next time.
There is a satisfying zzzzzziiiip when you close your jacket, and then you turn back towards your Master, who sits there waiting for you to leave.
He still could do it. All he would need is a single order and you would be willing to abandon the rest of your life and stay with him forever, and you know you would be absolutely happy but he lets you walk out because he likes you as more than a slave: he likes you as a person. He knows there is a life outside waiting for you and he wouldn't rob you from it and it from you.
Every single time you visit him, he makes once more the choice to let you go.
And you both know it. He smiles at you and nods and you smile at him and bow down a little, and you look one last time at each other's eyes.
- Good boy.
- Thank you, Master.
- See you next time.
And you cross the door and close it behind you, and walk into the fresh night outside.
