Naked Scott Ch. 08

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Writer’s note: this scenario contains extreme dominance and submission as well as master/slave role play. Just a heads up in case that is not your cup of tea.

My slave was in trouble. Big trouble and he knew it.

My orders were clear, same as always, though that did not mean they were easy to follow. That was part of the thrill. I challenged Scott as he wanted to be challenged. He wouldn’t have stayed, otherwise.

Earlier that evening, I needed to run to the grocery store to grab a few things. I had bathed Scott myself and oiled up his naked body. As my slave, his body belonged to me and he was permitted no privacy, even in his most intimate moments.

It was Friday night and I had had him in the plastic cock cage all week, denying his right to cum for five straight days.

These long trials without cumming got any easier for Scott, especially with all the sexual stimuli I continued to subject him too during the week. Even if he himself could not have release, he was still required to pleasure me whenever I commanded. With his mouth. With his hole. With whatever torment or humiliation I wished to put him through.

So when I freed him from the devilish device at long last, his balls were weighty and full, like ripe plums in my hand.

When I squeezed the base of his shaft, he grew hard almost immediately, his cockhead snaking up into the sleeve of my sweatshirt. He was ready to cum a bucket load, but he did not have my permission and I decided he could wait.

I put a handsome, black leather dog collar around his neck and a snug leather cuff around his balls to match.

Since I was going out, I commanded him to stand in the corner, facing the wall. There was a clear, glass buttplug screwed deep into his oiled-up hole and he was to stand spread eagled, hands behind his head, swaying his bubble buns until I got back.

With all the workouts I’d been putting him through, his ass looked better than ever. As round, pert and squeezable as freshly risen dough.

I liked to keep his bulbous buns moving and his hole stretched wide so it would be ready for my cock at all times.

The very sight of his perfect, moving buns had the power to unleash unbridled lust within me. I wanted him ready to be violated deep and hard whenever I got the urge.

Of course, I could have cuffed his wrists to his collar so he could not touch his long-neglected hardon even if he wanted to. But that would have been too easy.

He was my full-time slave now and this was his training. He would need to keep his hands away from his cock simply because I commanded him to do so. No excuses. If he disobeyed my orders, he would have to face the consequences.

“What are your orders, Scott?” I demanded, breathing down his neck.

“I am to stand here facing the wall, hands behind my head, bubble buns swaying, until my master comes home.”

I made him repeat it two more times.

“What are you not allowed to do, Scott?”

Scott swallowed hard against his collar. A moan escaped his lips. “I am not allowed to move my hands or (gulp) or stop moving my bubble buns until my master orders me to. I am not allowed to touch my cock or cum until my master grants me permission.” I could hear the pain in his voice, having to repeat that last line.

“Twice more, Scott.” He recited his orders two more times.

I pressed my thumb against the glass buttplug so it slid still deeper into his hole, nearly disappearing between his fleshy, swaying cheeks.

He grimaced and groaned in discomfort. His big, throbbing erection flexed completely taut.

“You understand the penalty for disobeying me, don’t you, Scott?” I said dangerously into his ear.

“Yes, master (gulp), yes I understand completely.”

“Good boy.” I raised my open palm and clapped it down hard on his dancing butt.


“UMF!” Scott went up on the balls of his feet. No matter how many times I spanked him, it somehow continued to catch him off guard and his reaction was always one of erotic surprise.

“You can move faster than that, can’t you, Scott?” I punished his wiggling, round cheeks two more times, leaving them stinging and ruddy like the swell of a peach. Each punishment sent a lightning jolt to his ravenous cock.

“Are you going to sway your buns slowly or quickly while I’m out, Scott?”

“Quickly, master,” he said, struggling to thrust his gorgeous backside back and forth as fast as he could. “I’ll sway my buns quickly for you the whole time.”

“That pleases me, Scott. Keep this cock or yours hard and dripping for me until I get back, won’t you?” I gave his cock a vicious slap (“UMPH”) then went out the door.

I hadn’t even blindfolded him, which increased the danger that his mind would wander and he would lose his focus.

I had left him this way several times before and he had obeyed me without fail. If he managed to do as he was told (without touching himself) I rewarded him with a nice, long blowjob or handjob, or I allowed amasya escort him to jerk off and cum while I watched (he was never allowed to masturbate when I was not present). All the semen that leapt out of his cock, he was required to swallow down again, in accordance with rule number six.

But never had I put him to this challenge directly after taking away his cum rights for an entire week. Never had I left him so desperate to shoot that big, hefty load I knew was weighing down his balls. I was asking a lot of him and I should have known he wasn’t ready for the challenge. But I figured that even if he failed, he would learn his lesson for next time.

I was gone about an hour, longer than I needed to be. When I got back to the apartment, I decided to be a little sneaky. I left the grocery bags in the car, for the rustling of plastic would have announced my return.

I climbed as stealthily as I could up to the second floor. I listened in through the door of our apartment. No sound at all on the other side.

I drew my key out of my pocket like an assassin’s dagger, then in one fluid movement, I slid it into the lock and flung the door wide open.

Scott gasped and turned around, startled. When I saw what he had done, I fell silent. I stepped in and closed the door, locking it behind me.

We looked at each other from across the room, my eyes burrowing into him. All the blood drained from his face.

He had removed the cuff from around his balls and left it on the floor. His semi-flaccid cock was still in his hand. He had just blown his very substantial wad all over the wall. His hand glistened with fresh man juice. The rest was streaming down into the carpet.

“Master…” Scott whispered in horror. Either he had not expected me home so soon or had not expected me to be out so long.

Maybe he planned to somehow hide his actions, clean up the mess when he was done, though how he could have been that foolish was beyond me. Actually it wasn’t, his hardon was likely raging so badly by the end there wasn’t enough blood left in his brain to consider the consequences.

But now I had caught him red-handed and he knew what he was in for. His pretty blue eyes grew moist. He swallowed audibly. “I’m so sorry, master, please forgive me, I…”

“Yes,” I said coldly, “Yes, Scott, tell me everything. Every last detail. I want to hear all of it.”

I crossed the room to where he stood. He turned as I approached, trying to hide his face, but I stopped him. I planted one hand beneath his jaw and lifted his chin so he could not look away. “Stand straight Scott.” He obeyed, thrusting back his shoulders. “Hands at your sides. Clench your buns tight. Tighter than that, swallow up the buttplug completely.” He flinched as he flexed his buns as tight as they would go. “Now, look your master in the eye and tell me why you disobeyed my rules.”

He swallowed hard against my hand at his throat. His face turned crimson and the edges of his mouth turned downward. Scott was a very handsome man, likely more handsome than he ever realized. Though I may have found him most attractive when his face was stricken as it was now. He was the very picture of shame and embarrassment.

There was a stifled whimper as he swallowed again. “I just (gulp) I just needed to cum so badly, master. My cock was so hard. I was so horny standing there wiggling my buns and you were gone so long…I couldn’t…” Further excuses fell apart in his mouth before my unrelenting gaze. He looked desperate for some hint of sympathy, but found none.

He swallowed against my hand, now trying to fight back tears. “It’s so hard for me sometimes, master. I’m so weak, I’m so stupid. I…(gulp) I wanted to be a good boy, master. Please, please forgive me. Forgive me for failing you, master.”

Scott may have been seven years older than me, but his normally sensual, manly voice was cracking and he sounded like a teenager facing a disappointed father.

Scott gasped when I reached down and began stroking his spent, sensitive cock with my free hand. I squeezed and felt the remaining cum ooze out onto my palm.

Without ever taking my eyes off his, I raised the sticky jizz to Scott’s lips. He sucked it off my fingers, gingerly at first, then with vigor, obviously trying to get back on my good side.

“What did you think about when you were jerking your shaved, slave cock, Scott?” He grimaced as I stroked him again. I squeezed harder this time, trapping his cockhead against palm, feeling the hot semen leak out of his flaccid shaft. “Who were you thinking about when you came so big and so hard? Don’t attempt to lie, Scott. I always know when you’re lying.”

His tears were hot as his leftover cum as they rolled down his face and onto my hand, still clutched around his jaw. He had that masculine tendency to try to hold back and weep silently. His cock, trapped as I squeezed it still harder, continued to ooze a gooey stream down my wrist. It flexed uncontrollably ankara escort in my grip as he spoke. “I was thinking (gulp) about…about Jennifer again, master.”

Jennifer was Scott’s ex-girlfriend whom he dated for three years before meeting me. On the night of our second encounter, he confessed that he had only ever dated women before meeting me, but he figured he was about thirty percent attracted to men.

“And what did you think about doing with Jennifer, Scott? Tell me everything from the beginning. In detail.”

Scott confessed everything he had been thinking about as his face burned with shame and tried to hold back his tears. He shifted his weight uncomfortably from one leg to the other as I held his face and his cock. I would not allow him to lower his eyes as he so desperately wanted.

He had been thinking of the two of them naked together in bed. Of doing her doggy style. He had imagined her dressed in a leather dominatrix outfit and spanking his naked ass hard. As hard as I liked to spank him.

“And did it feel good, Scott? Did you enjoy stroking your hard, slave cock and cumming so hard just now? Tell me. Answer me honestly.”

Scott swallowed, hard and miserable against his collar. His cock spasmed in my grip, which was increasingly vicelike. “It felt (MMF gulp)…it felt very good, master. It felt…amazing…” He broke down in his shame, understanding how badly he had failed me. He said this last word, “amazing,” with utmost disgrace, as if he had just confessed to murder.

I let go of his cock and seized his right hand, which was still slick and dripping with cum, and held it up to his mouth. “Lick it off, Scott.”

Still crying, Scott dabbed his tongue against his wet palm. I had remained cold and detached this whole time and I could tell it was getting to him. I could hear his heart pounding in his neck where my hand still pinned him. If I were to start yelling and screaming at him, it would surely have been a blessed relief.

“That’s it, every last drop. I don’t want you to waste any of it.” Scott licked his hand clean like a puppy dog. Then I made him lick the remaining jizz off my hand, as well.

When he had scoured both our hands thoroughly with his tongue, I sighed. “Well, I don’t know, Scott. I thought I made myself perfectly clear and that you understood the rules. You did understand, didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes master,” he said, sounding appropriately penitent. “I…I was a bad boy, master.”

“Then maybe it would be for the best if you found your own place, wouldn’t you say?” I released him and he took a step back. “I mean, if my rules are too hard for you, or if you don’t want to follow them, then maybe this isn’t going to work out the way I thought it would.” Scott looked at me stunned, as if I had just struck him.

I folded my arms and turned away from him. “Why don’t you get your clothes and go and give Jennifer a call? Why don’t you tell her what you were thinking about? Maybe she’ll let you be her slave. Maybe she’ll spank you and punish you better than I could.”

When Scott first started out as my slave, I still allowed him to see other people, if he so chose. But now that he was living in my apartment, I was his full-time master and that was strictly forbidden (rule number eight).

I don’t think any amount of physical punishment could have wounded Scott the way my words had. For reasons even I did not fully understand, Scott was dedicated to being my slave. He was growing into the role more and more each day, just as I was growing into the role of his master.

He looked horrified at the idea that I might reject him. That I might even turn him away.

He dropped to his knees and pressed his face to my feet like a servant to an Egyptian pharaoh. I watched his shoulder blades roll in his back. The musculature of his oiled, naked body gleamed gold in the overhead light. I saw the nob of the glass buttplug protruding from between his pink buns.

“Please, master. Please, I am your slave. You’re unworthy and stupid buy loyal slave.” Even though I was still wearing tennis shoes, he kissed them as he spoke. Licked them even, dirty though they were. “Please, give me my punishment, master. Please, I was bad and I deserve to be punished. Please, please give me the punishment I deserve, just don’t turn me away, sir. I’ll do anything you say!” And now he was wetting my shoes with his tears once again. Not trying to hold back any longer, but crying unabashedly. All his dignity gone.

So there it was. I was rock hard watching him do this. He was so desperate to please me that it appeared we could take this further still. My lust churned like sweet wine as I thought of what I might put him through. Of how I might make him pay for having so readily disobeyed me.

I breathed in and rolled back my shoulders. I became his master, once again. Perhaps more so than I ever had before. “Get the spatula, Scott,” I commanded quietly. “Not the slotted one, the antalya escort solid one, you know the one I mean.”

Scott looked up at me, face burning, eyes moist and desperate. He had begged me not to send him away and now he understood what lay ahead of him. There was a fascinating mixture of gratitude and fear in his expression. Gratitude that he could continue to be my slave, and also fear of what was about to happen.

“Master…” he began, voice trembling. Getting spanked, especially with the metal spatula, hurt badly. The one and only time I used it on him, it made his ass blister afterwards. He had long feared it, almost as much as the curtain rod.

“Scott,” I said, stone faced. He had just begged for this to continue, so now it was going to continue. “You have a long night of punishment ahead of you. It will be hard for you. You have deliberately disobeyed a rule. I’m going to make your naked slave body stretch and strain and struggle. I suggest you don’t make it any worse than it already is and bring me the damn spatula.”

Scott scrambled to his feet and hurried to the kitchen, heaving a great sigh, and found the spatula. Still keeping his head lowered, he presented it to me with both hands. It had a solid metal head that made his butt burn something fierce.

“Down on all fours, facing the wall. THIS wall.” I pointed to the one that had the long trail of his semen running down it. He did as he was told, his cock already growing again at being commanded by me.

Once positioned on the floor like a dog, I seized a hold of his collar and dragged him forward. I pressed his face against the mess on the wall.


“Silence, Scott. Now, can you feel your disobedience against your face? Can you smell it?”

“Yes, master,” he groaned, “Yes, I can feel and smell my cum, master.”

“Taste it, Scott. Lick it.”

Scott extended his long, red tongue and licked the cum on the wall like a dog. He flinched in a way he hadn’t when licking it off his hand, likely thanks to the plaster aftertaste.

“Do you like it, Scott? Does it taste good?”

He hesitated a moment, trying to determine what I wanted to hear.

“It tastes very good, master. Thank you, master.”

“Arch your back, Scott. Stick your ass out as far as you can. And I do mean as FAR as he can.” I said this with an especially icy tone and I felt a shudder go through my slave.

He stuck his buns out as far as he could while on all fours, serving them up to me freshly baked bread rolls.

I drew the spatula out of my pocket and pressed the handle against the glass buttplug in his hole, forcing it as far up as it would go and putting maximum pressure against his prostate.

“RRRF,” Scott groaned in discomfort.

“Recite rule number three, Scott.”

He gritted his teeth against the buttplug pressing up deep inside of him. “Rule number three (OOMF). Only my master…only my master is allowed to decide when I cum (OOF). I am forbidden to cum without permission.”

I raised the metal spatula and gave Scott’s left buttcheek a vicious whack. His body absorbed the impact and he let out a cry. “Ssss…ah!”

“Again, Scott, rule number three.”

Face still pressed against the wall, he drew in his breath. “Only my master is allowed to decide when I cum. I am forbidden to cum without permission.” SMACK! “ACK!”

The right cheek this time, even harder. The blood vessels were bursting in his tender backside. What was already pink was darkening to crimson.

“Again, Scott, faster this time!”

Scott said it as fast as he could before I brought the spatula down on him. “Only my master can decide when I cum. I am forbidden to cum without permission!” SMACK! “ARRR”

This particular tool of punishment was breaking down his barriers quickly and turning him into the helpless, pitiful sex slave that he was.

“Arch your back, Scott, buns in the air,” I barked at him. “Rule three again!” The coolness in my voice had disappeared and the rage was boiling forth. Scott did as I said. Again and again the spatula came down, tenderizing his flesh like raw steak. There was no resisting the cruelty of the spatula and soon Scott was weeping like a child into the wall.

“Three more. Straighten your legs, hold still, Scott. That is unless you want to do ten more instead.”

Scott straightened his legs and pushed his trembling, burning buns out toward me as far as he could. He shook like a broken man.

“I am forbidden to cum without permission!” SMACK!

“I am forbidden to cum without permission!” SMACK!


I got down on my knees and tipped Scott sideways onto my lap. Now it was time to really cut loose.

I hammering his wiggling, burning butt as he struggled and cried and begged me for mercy. “PLEASE, NO, NO, ACK!”

When at last I was spent, I heaved a great sigh and tossed the spatula to the side. “Now lick it up, Scott,” I said panting, “lick up every little bit of that mess you made on my wall.”

I pulled Scott up to his knees. There was no resistance whatsoever left in him. He pressed his hands against the wall and licked up the rest of the semen, from the very top down to where it had run into the carpet.

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