The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Milk Bar—Chapter 24

The next morning, over breakfast, Jim said “Oh yeah. I’ve got to call the Milk Bar and give them instructions.” He picked up the cordless and dialed. “Burt? Downing here. How are you?. Good, glad to hear it. What?. Yeah, right. It keeps me off the streets at night... Yeah, that’s right. Anyway, listen, I want you to do something for me, something special. You know my guy, Greg. Well the next time he comes in for training and service, I want you to remove the post-hypnotic block that prevents his recognizing me when I’m there. That’s right. No, I’m not at all worried. It won’t be a problem. In fact, it’ll make my life simpler. Great. Thanks Burt. See you soon.” Jim disconnected. “There. Got that taken care of. Next time we can have lots of fun!” Greg smiled at him, but with some hesitation. Should he have told Jim that he’d talked to Burt? He didn’t know. Now he thought better of if and kept his mouth shut. “What’s the matter baby? Is there something wrong?” “No, love. I guess it just makes me nervous to think about us being together at the Milk Bar. It’s like that’s another place in my life and I don’t see you as part of it.” “Look, it’s because of me that you went there in the first place, so don’t think of it as something I don’t know about. It helped bring us together, so I’ll always be grateful for it. OK?” “OK,” Greg smiled. “If you say so.”

Once again, Jim drove Greg to work and dropped him off near his car. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” Jim said. “What’s the big deal if people find out that we’re a couple? There are lots of guys in relationships who are completely open and honest about it. I don’t think I like this hiding. I want people to know that we’re together and that we love one another.” “Yes. I understand what you’re saying. And the police department isn’t as bad as it used to be. But most of the cops who are out are in the 6th precinct. None are in headquarters, yet. I’m not sure I’m ready yet. Let me think about it for now. OK?” “OK. We’re together. That’s the important thing, and I wouldn’t sacrifice that for anything. Have a good one baby.” “You too. Be careful out there.” They kissed and Greg climbed out of the car after making sure that no one was around.

As he walked through the garage, he caught sight of Frank Clark. “Hey Frank! Wait up!” he called, trotting after him. Frank stopped and waited for him. “Good morning. How’s things?” Greg asked genially. “Good, sir” said Frank, grinning, his even white teeth flashing beneath his reddish mustache. Greg placed his hand lightly on the small of Frank’s back as they walked toward the stairs. “Listen, I really liked working with you when we did that stake-out and I wanted to know if you’d be interested in helping me again the next time,” Greg asked him. Frank glanced up at him. “Sure Lieutenant. I think we make a good team. Anytime you need me, you let me know.” “Good man,” Greg said and slapped Frank’s tight butt, much as a football coach would. It didn’t seem out of place to Frank who was used to the sports-like atmosphere of the police department.

Greg went through the days work sailing on the wind of Jim’s love for him. A couple of times he paused though, considering Jim’s parting words that morning. What would it be like to be out here? To have Jim’s picture on his desk? To take calls from him and speak as freely as the men and women who spoke to their spouses on the phone, calling them “Sweetheart” and “Sugar” and other such endearments. The assumption always was that it was someone of the opposite sex on the other end of the line; someone who would lie awake nights, waiting for their husband or wife to come home. What would it be like for everyone to know that his waiting partner was a man? The thought gave him a feeling of excitement mixed with fear. He might find himself completely isolated from his co-workers. Worse yet, he might find that, in a dangerous situation, he might find himself with no support. He pushed down those thoughts. “I work with responsible, intelligent people,” he thought. “I’m sure it wouldn’t make any difference to them at all! But I’m not quite ready to test that.”

He phoned Jim around 6:00. “Hey guy! What’s up?” Jim asked. “I’m packing it in for the day. What about you? You heading out pretty soon?” “I’ve got a few more things to look after. His Honor dropped a couple of new items on my desk and I need to at least get them started. So it’ll be about half an hour for me. You go on ahead. Why don’t you stop for Thai on the way, instead of cooking again.” “What? You don’t like my cooking? I think it’s pretty good for a bachelor!” Greg fumed, pretending he was incensed. “Now don’t be like that. Your cooking’s fine. I just don’t want us to get in the habit of you cooking for me. And besides, you’re not a bachelor anymore and don’t you forget it!” “No Sir. I certainly won’t. And I will stop for Thai. Do you like it spicey?” Greg responded. “The spicier, the better. See you at home.” Greg hung up and headed out the door. He’d take the train uptown, since his car was in the garage at home, where he’d left it last night. He stopped at the local Thai take-out, placed their orders and sat down to wait. As he sat there, he watched people coming and going, as was his habit. He noticed one man in particular when he walked in. He was medium height, about 5 foot 10, medium build and around forty-five, Greg guessed. Closely cropped salt-and-pepper hair, a handsome face and smiling green eyes. Greg was eyeing his well-muscled ass when, suddenly, the man turned around. Greg glanced up quickly, realizing that he’d been staring. He caught the man’s eyes and the man smiled. Holding Greg’s gaze, he strolled over and sat down across the table from him. “Hi there! I don’t recall seeing you in here before. Are you new in town?” “N-n-no,” stammered Greg, suddenly tongue tied by the attention from this handsome, sexy stranger. “No, I’ve lived in the City all my life, except for the time I spent in the service. But I new to this part of town.” “Oh really?” the man smiled, flashing a bright smile. As he spoke, Greg’s eyes darted down to the open neck of his shirt and he took in the wisps of salt-and-pepper hair reaching out toward the man’s throat. “Name’s Austin,” the man said, reaching out his hand. “Greg. Greg Barber,” Greg ventured, shaking Austin’s hand. “So where do you live, Greg?” “Uh, West 75th Street. Just off West End.” “We must be neighbors! Where do you work, downtown?” “Uh, yeah, downtown. I’m just on my way home.” “I figured that.” Austin kept his eyes on Greg’s face. After a few moments, Greg dropped his eyes. “You’re the city cop, aren’t you?” “Yes,” Greg whispered. “And you know the Milk Bar, don’t you?” Greg looked up quickly and then looked back down. “Yes Sir,” he whispered, barely audible. “I thought I recognized you. boy.” Greg kept his eyes on the table. Then he felt a hand sliding up his leg toward his groin. “Please Sir,” Greg said quietly. “Please don’t. There’s someone waiting for me.” The hand remained on his bulging crotch. “Who’s waiting for you boy?” “Please Sir. He’s my Master. Please don’t.” The hand squeezed his swelling genitals. “Alright boy. I respect another man’s property rights, so I’ll let you go to him. But if you’re ever looking for a new master, be sure to call me, boy.” “Yes Sir. Thank you Sir,” Greg murmured and Austin withdrew his hand from Greg’s basket.

Just then, the woman behind the counter called Greg’s number. “Sorry, gottat go. I’m sorry; may I go Sir.” “Sure,” Austin said, reaching into his pocket. “Here’s my card. Like I said, call me if you’re looking for someone to obey.” “Yes Sir. Thank you Sir,” Greg answered. “Thank you.” Greg paid for dinner and fled from the restaurant. What was going on here? He loved Jim for all the world. Jim was his only man and his Master. But he couldn’t keep his eyes off other men and he couldn’t stop fantasizing about them. He had to talk to Jim about this, he decided. Jim would know what was happening to him because he’d been out much longer than Greg and he knew the ropes. Jim would be his teacher in this as well.

When he got in the apartment, he checked the fridge to make sure there were a couple of bottles of beer in there. Then he took off his jacket and tie and rolled up his sleeves and set about cleaning up last night’s dishes, mulling over his chance meeting with Austin as he worked. He jumped slightly when he felt two arms wrap around his waist as someone pulled him close. “Hey tiger. What’s up? Why so jumpy?” Jim said, holding Greg to him, pressing his considerable endowment into Greg’s ass crack. “Oh, it’s nothing, I’m sure. Just nerves.” “Nerves? You’re a cop. You’re not supposed to have nerves!” Jim exclaimed. “I’ve been a cop a lot longer than I’ve been gay. No. What I mean is, longer than I’ve known I’m gay. And I’m just not used to it. I want to talk to you about something, but not right now. Let’s eat and then we can talk. OK?” “Sure baby. Sounds fine.” By now, Jim had turned Greg around and was looking into his eyes, a concerned look on his face. “Are you sure you’re OK?” “Yeah, I’m OK. I’ll be fine. I love you,” Greg whispered. “I love you too, tiger,” Jim said and kissed Greg. He grabbed Greg’s tits through his shirt and pinched them hard, using them to pull Greg to himself. “Uuunnnh. Uuunnhhhh, Ooohhhhh,” Greg grunted. “You’re nothing but a tit pig. My little tit-slave. That’s what you are!” Jim exclaimed. “Yes Sir.” Greg answered, a wan smile crossing his lips. “Please Sir, let’s eat. Now! Please!”

They sat down to dinner and hurried through it. Jim kept glancing up at Greg, his concern showing in his eyes. What was eating him? Greg only picked at his food. Jim hadn’t seen this preoccupation in him before. Had something happened at work? What was going on? Greg sat there glumly, a hollow, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

When they were through with dinner, Greg stood up from the table. “Please wait here, Sir. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes,” he said and left the room. Jim waited impatiently. What was Greg up to? He wanted to know. In a few minutes Greg came back into the main living area. He was stripped naked except for the collar he wore around his neck. Jim caught his breath at seeing, once again, this magnificent man he called his love. The muscles rippling under the skin as he walked. The covering of fur over his sculpted chest. The strong jaw and intelligent eyes. Yes, he was quite a man. There was a shadow now on his pubes and under his arms where the hair that had been shaved off for his debut was growing back. Once his bush had grown back completely, he would be given a shave indicative of his novice level as a man cow. Then, as he progressed in his training, the shape of his bush would be changed appropriately to indicate his level. “God, you’re beautiful!” Jim breathed. “Thank you Sir.” Greg answered and knelt at Jim’s feet. In his hands, he carried Jim’s harness. “Please Sir. I need to be taught tonight. If you would Sir.” “Yes boy, I will,” Jim answered, and indeed, his cock was already growing hard at the sight of his boy’s body, ready and waiting for him. “Come boy. Let’s go into the training room. Stay on your knees.” Jim stood and strode down the hall while Greg hobbled behind him, carrying his Master’s harness, crawling on his knees.

The Milk Bar—Chapter 24

When he crawled into the training room, his Master was leaning against the St. Andrew’s watching him crawl in. He hobbled across the room and placed Master’s harness on a table. Then he moved to kneel in front of his Master. “Remove my shoes and socks. You may use your teeth.” “Yes Sir. Thank you Sir.” Greg reached behind Master’s right foot and took the top of his right loafer in his teeth. Master pulled his foot out of it. Greg caught the pungent, arousing fragrance of his end-of-workday socks and his cock began to harden. He pulled his Master’s trouser leg up and, holding the leg up with his forehead, quickly grabbed the top of his aromatic sock. Then he pulled it down Master’s leg. When he got it below his ankle, he grabbed the toe in his teeth and pulled the sock off. He held the sock up for his Master to take, caressing it with his tongue, absorbing the flavor as he waited for Master to take it from him. Master Jim reached down and took the sock from his mouth and Greg went back to Master’s left foot and repeated the entire process. When he’d removed his Master’s shoes and socks, he approached to remove his pants. As he reached up to pull his belt loose, he felt his Master’s stiffening sex against his chin. He managed to unfasten the belt and then unhook his trousers. He grasped the zipper in his teeth and lovingly pulled it down, exposing his Master’s brilliant white, bulging briefs. As Master’s pants began to slide over his hips, heading down his furry thighs toward the floor, the boy caught them with his teeth and gently eased them down. Then he knelt up so that Master could use his head as a brace and step out of his trousers. The slave, now using his hands, carefully folded the pants and placed them on the table set aside for his Master’s clothing. Next, the cop-slave grasped the waist-band of Master Jim’s shorts in his teeth and, using his chin as a prod, pushed his powerful, erect cock in and pulled the band wide, permitting him to pull the waist-band over the tip of Master’s pole. When the shorts were free of any encumbrance from Master’s dick, Greg pulled them down his legs until they also fell to the floor. Shorts were easier to fold using only his teeth and so he did, and placed them on the table. Then he knelt up in front of his Master.

“You may rise, boy, and use your hands to remove my shirt,” Master said. “Thank you Sir,” the slave said and keeping his hands clasped behind his back, his own tumescent dick bobbing, rose to his feet.. He gently unbuttoned his Master’s fine shirt, exposing the dark carpet on his chest. Then he undid his cuff-links and waited while his Master turned around, allowing the slave to pull his shirt off of him. He then folded the shirt and placed it on top of his other clothes on the table. Master turned around again, facing his slave in all the power of his strong body and hairy bush and pecs, while his slave was aware of his own nearly naked crotch, a sign of his position beneath his Master. The slave-boy picked up his Master’s harness, kissed the leather and gently placed it over his Master’s shoulders, buckling the buckles that had been opened to permit him to adorn his Master with this sign of his superiority and his own submission. When he’d finished buckling the harness in place, he quickly fell to his knees, bowed his head and said “Thank you Sir. Thank you for being my Master.” Then he put his head on his Master’s feet and kissed them, placing his arms around them.

“Kneel up boy!” Master Jim ordered. Obediently, the cop-slave raised himself off the floor and waited there on his knees before his Master, legs spread, hands behind his back, head down. “Now boy, what was it you wanted to tell me?” “Sir. I-I.” “Out with it boy. Don’t keep me waiting or you’ll be punished for it!” “Oh Sir. I-I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to do. I can’t help myself,” he choked. “What is it? What have you done?” “Sir. This is all so new to me. I’ve been unfaithful...”

There was an agonizingly long moment of silence. Greg sensed that his Master didn’t know what to do or say. Sweat was rolling down his back and slicking his armpits as he waited for his Master’s response. Master took his boy’s chin in his hand and pulled it up. “Look at me!” he ordered. “Look into my eyes and tell me exactly what you’ve done!” Greg looked up into his Master’s blazing eyes and swallowed hard. “S-s-sir,” he stammered, “I’ve looked at other men and found myself wanting them. I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I couldn’t help myself. I-I love you Sir. With my whole being. But other men make me hard. And tonight, while I was waiting for dinner, I met a man. He said his name was Austin. I-I. I told him someone was waiting for me. Otherwise, he’d have taken me home I think. Please forgive me Sir. Please!”

His Master look remained stern. “There’s only one mistake you’ve made; that’s feeling guilty about it. We all like looking at other men and no one man can fulfill all our fantasies and desires and completely fill our minds. It’s natural to look. And perhaps later, we’ll negotiate a more open relationship. That might suit both of us better. And after all, you’re still in service at the Milk Bar and will have sexual encounters with many, many men. I can’t hold you to a vow of complete fidelity. It would be foolish of me to expect it. But what would hurt me is to find that you no longer loved me. That would come close to destroying me, I think.” His Master seemed, almost, to be talking to himself now, his voice filled with pain. “So all I ask of you is honesty. Tell me when you’ve had sex with other men. Tell me what you’ve learned and how much you enjoyed it, or didn’t, as the case may be. But tell me right away if you ever fall out of love with me. Do not make a fool of me. Do you understand?” he pleaded. “For I love you more than the entire earth, more than my own life, and if you found you no longer loved me, I’d rather know and end it than be made a fool of. Do you understand?” Greg looked deeply into his beloved Master’s eyes which were filling with tears. “Yes Sir,” Greg whispered hoarsely, tears welling in his own eyes. No one had ever loved him like this. It was almost too much to bear. “I’ll try to be worthy of your love. Always.” he murmured.

###

“Now,” said Master, clearing his throat, “It’s time for instruction and punishment. Your punishment is for keeping me waiting: twenty lashes. And for feeling guilty: twenty more. Mount the bench!” “Yes Sir,” the slave answered, glancing at this device he’d not yet experienced.

“The Bench” was a wooden bench about as long as a man’s torso. It had a padded seat, not as wide as a man’s torso, and its legs were two boards, wider at the bottom than at the top, and slightly splayed, giving it stability. There was a pair of handles at one end with leather cuffs directly above them. On the other end were wide leather cuffs, obviously large enough to encompass a slave’s thighs. The bench was mounted on top of a larger bench of much the same construction, but of greater size. This set-up permitted the Master to stretch the slave across the upper bench, strap him in place, exposing his back, ass and backs of his thighs to whatever punishment the Master deemed appropriate or enjoyed inflicting on his slave. As Greg climbed up upon it, he also noticed that there was a hole in the stanchion supporting the “ass end” of the bench; a hole that would accommodate the slave’s cock and balls. All-in-all, a very effective piece of equipment. The cop-slave stretched himself across the padded seat and gripped the handles. The seat supported his chest and abdomen but left his nips available to his Master’s attention.

Master buckled his wrists into the leather cuffs. Then he pulled the slave’s cock and balls through the hole. Next, he wrapped the cuffs around his slave’s thighs. Then he took a length of rope and wrapped it around the slave’s balls, stretching them far down in their already long sack and tied the rope to a conveniently placed hook at the base of the other “head end” stanchion. The slave was now effectively immobilized. Finally, he slipped a blindfold over the slave’s eyes. He felt his Master’s warm, firm fingers wandering over his naked skin, across his back, down his ass, over his sensitive perineum. He realized that the fingers were searching for something, rather than wandering aimlessly. Nevertheless, he thrilled to their touch.

“Now boy. I’m about ready. But I notice that you’ve permitted some stubble to appear on your ass. That’s another infraction you’ll receive twenty licks for. But first I’m going to clean you up, since you didn’t have the respect to do it yourself before presenting yourself to me.” “Yes Sir, no excuse Sir,” the slave correctly responded. He heard his Master making preparations at the counter and in a few moments, heard the sound of shaving foam being expelled from a can. He felt his Master’s hand on his ass, smearing the foam around his exposed hole and almost as quickly, smelled the unmistakable odor of strong menthol. Before the razor touched his skin, he was beginning to feel the warmth of the aromatic herb. His Master shaved the cheeks of his ass with care (or was it deliberate slowness to permit the burn to build up?). Then the razor took the stubble from the patch at the small of his back where his hair usually grew in. Then his Master pushed his cheeks apart with one hand and scraped away the hair with the razor in his other hand. When his pink pucker was cleaned of all signs of his manhood, he thought he might be finished. But he heard the sound of more foam being expelled and suddenly, felt his Master’s hand slapping a load of foam against his winking hole. Then, three fingers were pushed painfully into his ass chute and he cried out with the pain of the sudden invasion. There was a sharp slap on his ass. “Quiet boy. I didn’t ask for your noise in this matter. You’re being punished. Now take it like the slave that you are!” “Yes Sir,” Greg grunted. “No excuse Sir.” As the stinging on his ass faded, he began to feel the heat in his chute where the menthol was taking effect and he began to sweat. “This is what I deserve,” he thought. “This is what my Master knows I need. Take it and try to make him proud. Don’t make him feel you’re a failure.” And the cop-slave gritted his teeth and breathed deeply, trying to stay tuned to the sensations his Master was meting out to him.

Master walked around in front of him and grabbed his erect tits, kneading them and pinching them hard. Then he felt the clamps biting into his sensitive cones. He could feel the chain that joined the clamps swinging beneath the seat of the bench. “Thank you Sir,” he grunted as the familiar thrill sped up and down his spine.

“Stick out your tongue boy, and know the instrument of your discipline!” Greg stuck his tongue out and encountered heavy leather. He could feel its thickness by the resistance it offered to his tongue and realized it was a heavy leather strap. He also felt perforations in the leather and realized this could be used in a most unpleasant exercise. The holes permitted the strap to make full contact with the skin, with no cushion of air blocking its impact. After he’d licked the strap, he kissed it, saying “Thank you Sir.” “Now we’ll begin. Count your punishment.” “Yes Sir,” Greg answered and braced himself for the first blow. He heard the whoosh of the strap as it cleaved the air and heard more than felt its first blow. A loud “thwack”. Then, instantaneously, the pain smashed into the base of his skull from his butt where the strap had been applied. He jerked back involuntarily and felt the rope around his balls nearly rip them off. As he slammed back against the bench, he instantaneously realized that its padding was not for his comfort, but to prevent unnecessary damage to the Master’s property. He cried out; “Uunnnh. One Sir, thank you Sir,” he yelled. His skin, already heated from the menthol, was suddenly very hot. Seconds went by as he waited for the next blow. The whoosh of the strap, the sound of the impact, the burst of pain as the belt smashed into the backs of his thighs. “Uunnh. Two Sir, thank you Sir,” he yelled as he pushed his hips against the bench to keep from castrating himself. Another pause as he waited and the pain built. The blows kept coming, one after another, but never twice in the same spot, never from the same direction and always a pause between them. He could hear his Master grunting with his exertions as he rained blow after blow on his slave’s glowing backside. By the time he reached fifteen, Greg was becoming hoarse from yelling. Then tears began to well up in his eyes and stream down his face. This pain was so incredibly intense that he didn’t think he could take the entire sentence his Master had pronounced on him. What was it; sixty strokes? It was only eighteen now and he thought he might pass out. And on the beating went.

His Master was breathing hard, he was screaming out the count, his voice raw, his breath coming in rapid, ragged gasps. Twenty, twenty-five, thirty. Around thirty-five though, the pain suddenly changed to a rush. He was lifted up and he, in turn, lifted up his ass to meet the assault of the strap, even though it ripped at his balls. His cock had long been hard and dripping; a stream of clear pre-cum that splattered around as each blow jarred his backside. It coated the rope that stretched his balls and made it glisten. He arched his back, pulling taut the chain joining the clamps chewing into his nipples. The clamps bit harder: they were butterflies, so the harder he pulled, the deeper they sank into his nubs. He rose higher and higher on the endorphin rush and his screams turned into pleas for more. “Forty Sir, thank you Sir, forty-one Sir, thank you Sir.” Higher and higher he went as the jagged pain from his nipples joined the shocks from the strap. “Aaaaggghh. Fifty-one Sir, thank you Sir. Uuunnnhhh. Fifty-two Sir, thank you Sir.” As the count approached sixty, his breathing came in more and more rapid gasps. He began to breathe harder and harder as his heart was racing. At sixty, he heard the strap fall to the floor. Suddenly, his Master was directly behind him, kneeling on the lower table of the bench. The head of his stiff, dripping cock was at the cop-slave’s hole, and, suddenly, it was inside him. He screamed as the huge dick plunged directly into him. His Master grabbed the chain joining his tits and thrust, shouting “Come!” as he rammed his iron rod home. Greg half shouted, half screamed and his body contracted in one huge spasm as the cum shot from his jerking cock like water from a fire hose.

###

The slave lay breathing in whimpers and moaning not only from the force of the orgasm his Master had drawn from him but from the pain across his back, ass and legs. His Master lay atop him, breathing hard and running his hands over his slave’s face as he continued to pump out the last of his own cum. “Good boy,” he whispered. “That’s my good boy.” “Th-th-thank you Sir,” the cop-slave answered hoarsely. Finally, his Master pulled his softening dick out of him and stood up. He walked around Greg’s still bound body and lifted up his head by his hair. “Clean me,” he ordered and thrust his cock into the slave’s gapping mouth. The cop-slave ran his tongue over the plum-like smooth, warm head and teased the piss-slit by thrusting the tip of his tongue inside as far as he could push it. The man cow licked and sucked, cleaning the aftermath of his Master’s fucking and orgasm from his beautiful penis and drawing the remnants of cum out of it, sucking like a calf nursing at its mother’s teat. He loved the flavor of his Master’s man cream! The tangy, salty, bitter flavor made his own exhausted dick begin to rise again. He licked the bits of cum out of Master’s pubic bush and combed the dark hair with his teeth. Then he licked his Master’s balls, giving them a massage with his well-trained tongue. Finally, his Master was satisfied. “Good boy,” said Master and slapped his already red ass. “Uuunnhhh. Thank you Sir,” he responded obediently and lowered his head to relax his tired neck.

The Milk Bar—Chapter 25

Master Jim stood in front of him and picked up his head by his hair. “Lessons learned?” he demanded. “Sir. I’ve learned not to feel guilty for looking at other men. I’m beginning to learn to come on your command. I’ve learned that I have much more to learn to be a worthy slave. Thank you Sir.” “And what else, boy?” Greg raised his eyes to meet his Master’s gaze. Master’s eyes were no longer stern, but warm and soft. “What else?” he whispered. “Sir. I’ve begun to learn how much you love me and that you love me for no other reason than that you love me.” “Yes boy. You’ve learned well.” Jim bent down and kissed his bound lover-slave and the lover-slave returned the kiss of his Master-lover.

This time, his Master didn’t immediately remove his harness. He released Greg from his shackles and he fell off the bench as much as crawled off. “Follow me to the bathroom. I’ll remove my harness, not because I’ve stepped away from the role of Master but simply because I don’t wish to get it wet. I will tell you when my role of Master has ended for this session,” Jim instructed. “Yes Sir, thank you Sir,” Greg said from the kneeling position into which he’d gathered himself. To emphasize their positions, Master snapped a leash onto Greg’s collar and led him down the hall to the bathroom. There, he removed his harness and hung it on a special hook. Then he removed Greg’s leather collar, turned on the water and stepped into the shower.

Greg crawled in after him, reached up for the soap and began to wash his Master’s body. He lathered his feet, lovingly swirling the hair on their tops. He moved up his legs, continuing to work up suds. Then he reached his Master’s groin. He gently soaped his long cock and heavy balls and ran his soapy hand back toward his hole. Master closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, luxuriating in the feel of his slave’s loving hands cleaning his body. Greg pushed a soapy middle finger up his Master’s hole, causing him to suck in his breath and making his cock jerk upwards. Greg thrust in and out, finger-fucking his Master.

Master moved his hips under the shower to rinse the soap off his cock, then he grabbed his slave’s jaw with his hands and pushed his mouth open, pushing his cock into the welcoming, warm orifice. Greg bobbed on the pole in his mouth, making mouth-music with as much skill as he could muster, all the while, continuing his finger-fucking of his Master’s ass. As he felt his Master’s cock stiffen and pulse, he reached up his right hand, with which he’d been holding down Master’s balls and tweaked his erect nipples with his nails. Master gasped and Greg felt the column of flesh in his mouth jerk and spasm, as his reward, his Master’s rich man cream, shot into his mouth. Knowing the load was coming, he pulled back on the cock he was milking so that the load would be spilled in his mouth, rather than down his throat. He hoped Master wouldn’t mind if he took his load in his mouth, because he worshipped the taste of his milk. But he wanted it so much, he was willing to accept punishment for his presumption if Master disapproved. He lived for that moment. Master seemed to understand and approve because, rather than shoving his cock down his man-cow’s throat, he pumped it with his hand, keeping his cock head in the man-cow’s mouth. This was the man-cow’s reward for taking his discipline like a man.

When his Master’s breathing had returned to normal and he’d cleaned every last drop of cream out of his milk-slit, Greg said “Thank you Sir. Thank you for giving me the pleasure of tasting you,” and knelt back. “Get up now boy, and continue with my bath. When you’re finished washing me, I’ll clean you up and then we’ll go to bed.” “Yes Sir,” Greg replied and, standing, picked up the soap again. He lathered Master’s beautiful chest, reveling in how the brown fur swept back in forth in the suds as he ran his hands over his chest. Then Master raised each arm and Greg soaped his furry armpits. Finally, he pulled a telephone shower attachment from the rod in the shower and gently rinsed his Master’s entire body.

“Now, boy, it’s your turn. Turn around, lean against the wall and give me each of your feet.” Greg did as instructed, turning his back on his Master and raising up each foot in turn so that Master could take it and wash it. Greg had a flashback to his childhood and being bathed this way by his father. It wasn’t a service being rendered to him; rather it was his duty to give his father easy access to all parts of his body so that Dad could wash him easily. Now, being in the same situation with his Master, he felt a sense of humiliation: he was being treated like a child. In response, his cock rose higher. Master finished washing his feet and, slapping his tender butt, ordered him to turn around again. “Put your hands behind your back, boy.” “Yes Sir,” Greg answered and did as he was told. Master commenced washing his genitals. He squeezed his balls and felt for any stray stubble that might have been missed earlier. Apparently, he found some, for he reached up to the shelf and picked up his razor, making several passes over Greg’s scrotum and the underside of his penis to clean away the stragglers. Then he jacked Greg up to a full erection. “Now, bend over, reach back, and spread your ass. Hurry up boy. I don’t have all night.” “Yes Sir. Sorry Sir,” he rapped out and, turning around, he bent at the waist, reached back and pulled his ass cheeks apart. His Master soaped his ass and scrubbed with his hands. Then he thrust his fingers in the waiting hole: first one, then two, the three and finally four. He slid his hand in as far as his knuckles, stretching Greg’s hole wide, making him whimper in pain and excitement. “One of these days, boy, I’ll try you out for a fist fucking. But not tonight. I’m tired and I’ve spent a lot of energy on you already.” With that, he pulled his hand out, leaving behind a ring of fire and a sense of emptiness in Greg’s chute.

“Straighten up and turn back to me boy,” Master ordered and Greg obeyed. His Master soaped up his belly and chest, pulling the hair up into sudsy peaks and twisting it around. “Hmmm. maybe sometime I’ll see what you look like completely shaved. How would you like that boy? To lose this sign of your manhood?” “Whatever makes you happy Sir.” “But?” “But, Sir?” “I heard a ‘but’ in there.” “I’d rather keep my hair, Sir, but it’s not up to me, is it Sir? It’s up to you.” “You got that right boy,” Master laughed and slapped his nipples with both hands. Greg winced. “Thank you Sir,” he murmured. His Master picked up each of his arms and washed under them, turning him this way and that to finish his bath. Then, when he was satisfied, Master stepped out of the shower and, reaching back, turned the hot water completely off, leaving Greg in a stream of ice-cold water. He hissed and bit his lip so as not to cry out and began to shiver. “Rinse completely. Including your backside,” Master ordered. Greg turned slowly, lifting his arms and splashing the cold water between his legs. The worst moment came when the water hit his spine, sending a heavy shudder through his entire body. He moaned shakily as his whole body quivered. At least it cooled his reddened backside, somewhat relieving the pain.

After Greg had been standing under the chilling water for a long couple of minutes, Master spoke: “OK boy, you’re finished. Get out and finish drying me.” He’d been sitting there in a long robe to keep from getting cold. As the slave-boy stepped, shivering, out of the shower, his Master rose and let the robe drop to the floor. The boy picked it up, retrieved a towel and rubbed his Master dry, making sure that no moisture was left anywhere on his body. All the while, he stood there dripping wet and trying to control his muscles which were wont to jerk with shivers. Finally, Master nodded. “You may now dry yourself. When you’re finished, come to the bedroom. Your training is finished for this evening.” And he leaned forward and kissed his lover. “Thank you Sir,” Greg whispered.

Greg was still cold, but his backside was burning when he reached the bedroom.. Jim was lying naked on the bed. He held out his arms and Greg went to him and fell into his embrace. “I love you Barb. More than anything in the world.” “I love you, Downey.” During the last couple of days, they’d adopted these intimate nick-names for each other. Jim caressed Greg’s brush of hair and ran the tips of his fingers around the whorls of his ears. Greg shuddered with pleasure. Jim was the only one who’d ever touched his ears in this arousing way and he loved it when he did. His cock began to recover from the evening’s workout and started to stiffen. Jim felt its hardness against his thighs and moved to capture it between his legs. “Go sweetheart,” he said and Greg humped his lover’s legs until, once again, he came. At the last shudder of orgasm, he collapsed on Jim’s chest and soon fell asleep.