Tamely Told

05: Billy's Blue Balls

Oh, Billy. Look at him on the leather swing in our playroom, just aching for some kind of release. I'd tied him up earlier in a spit roast position, fully naked except for his leather boots. He had a red apple duct-taped into his mouth and a small piggy tail inserted from behind. Even the headband of piggy ears boosted his adorability. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but there was no possible pain. Well, not the kind most would assume. This was all emotional, in his little mind. Deep down, despite his mumbling cries, he wanted this—needed it. He needed me because no other Master could ever show him the way to a heaven better than biblical, not the way I could. Look at my little boy, desperately waiting for me to let him release in constant mumbling. The more he cried, the more I smirked with amusement. I walked around him with the clacking of my thick boots to admire his thick, jock body with the lightest of fuzz. He never got old no matter what he told himself, because he never expired in my eyes. I smacked one of his big cheeks to watch it jiggle, just the way I loved it whenever I took him from behind and claimed him with each thrust, marking him at the end. But tonight? He'd have to wait longer than usual for being a bad little boy, and he knew it. What he didn't know, though? The damn power he had over me that I refused to show, enough to plan a surprise engagement to contractually own him.

Soon, Billy. Soon.