Cody

Recharged

For the past week or so, I've been in a progressive funk. There were some obvious stressors that contributed to this: work stress, online class deadline stress, "knowing I'll be losing my regular fag soon" stress, "fucking up my knee so my gym workouts haven't been as solid as I'd like" stress, etc.

No one is ever perfectly happy all the time. It happens.

My faggot picked up on this and has been giving me the necessary space I need while also being incredibly attentive to making sure everything in the apartment is clean and orderly. Clean home, clean mind. He has also been available for my use sexually every day.

Perhaps this sense of "regularity" has taken some of the luster out of the sex recently. Us Alphas are hunters. We don't always like things just handed to us. A little challenge here and there makes things more interesting. It's like the scene in Jurassic Park where they comment about the T-Rex not wanting to be fed because it wants to hunt.

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This afternoon, after we got back from the gym, I sat on the couch watching porn as my fag sucked me off and licked my sweaty sack. My fag must have sensed my lack of enthusiasm because after he swallowed my load, he did a check-in with me about things. A good fag handles your sexual needs, but a great fag handles all of your needs. I'm fortunate that I have a fag with whom I can communicate with on a level that maintains our power dynamic, but also affords me the opportunity to be honest with him about what is going on with me internally. When I was done venting, he said to me:

"Sir, go shower. When you come out, I'm not going to just be 'your fag'. I'm going to remind you that's you're a fucking king."

Normally, I would have gotten upset that a faggot was telling me what to do, but he was right, and so I laughed at his assertiveness and constructive criticism.

I went to the bathroom and took a nice long shower, letting the hot water soothe my muscles and wash away the grime of life. I toweled off and walked out naked to find him in the kitchen finishing dinner prep while wearing my favorite jockstrap I like to see him in.

As soon as he saw me, he turned around and dropped to his knees, lowering his head in deference.

"Dinner is almost ready, Sir," he said to me. "I have a salad for you at the table if you'd like something to eat now."

I saw that there was only one place setting at the table for me.

"Are you eating with me?" I asked him.

"I eat when you tell me and where you tell me," he replied, keeping his head down.

I was starting to enjoy this, and told him to finish making dinner while I started on my salad. I warned him that if he fucked up my dinner, I would make him start over again. He nodded in acknowledgement.

I had just finished my salad when he brought me my dinner. He's still learning how to cook, but had managed to get some pasta in the time I was in the shower and having my appetizer. Simple, but he made the effort.

He set the plate down in front of me and stood by the table, waiting for my next command.

"Go get your food, and bring it here," I told him.

He followed the orders literally and once again stood by the table, holding his plate.

"You can eat there," I told him, pointing to the floor with my fork. I felt a sadistic spark in me ignite, knowing that he would do whatever I wanted. It had been dormant for too many days.

"Yes, Sir." he said, and ate beneath me.

When I was finished with what he brought me, I snapped my fingers and he stood at attention.