Incentives are important for getting the best out of your employees. It is therefore even more beneficial to have that incentive be another employee. (From http://misterchristianx.tumblr.com/)
Riki took a gasping breath and looked up at his Master in frustration. His mouth was almost numb and all he could taste was the salty-stickiness of his owner’s precum. It must have only been thirty minutes of energetic, dedicated lip service but the teen was nearing exhaustion.
He must be doing something wrong. It was only his first time attempting a blow job on another and Mister X seemed no closer to cumming. If anything, his owner rigid member seemed about ready to burst as his owner lazily teased the boy’s privates with his foot, edging him closer but refusing to complete him.
Mister X glanced down at Riki and smirked. “You were so sure you could do it, you begged me to let you try. If your goal is to put me to sleep you’re getting very close now.” The man laughed scornfully.
Riki’s lower lips quivered - he felt hurt and enraged by his Master’s comments. He’d show him! He could do it even if it took all afternoon!
Knitting his brows together Riki took a deep breath and steeled himself for another go. Just as he leaned forward he felt Mister X’s fingers ensnare his hair and pull him forward, deep onto the man’s cock, his own privates crushed by the weight of his owner leaning forward on them.
“That’s the spirit. Here, let me help you, boy…” He cooed as he began to pump the boy’s head back and forth as though it were a living fleshlight.
***
Goodness me, I drew something. Don’t tell anyone or they’ll expect more.
Long story as to why the Dom in this picture is an overweight version of me with a Jay Leno-esque chin. I’m not going to tell you that story. Mwaah.
I’ll suffice to say, thanks for your idea and prodding, Riki. You appear to have broken my funk.
Meh … no story. Sorry, kids. Imagine up something about a Victorian workhouse where otherwise useless boys were put to good use in the name of science.
I’m lucky to have colored any of this piece - I lost interest about two days ago.
A muffled cough issued from Colin’s gagged mouth. His throat was dry and his body ached from the awkward position the metal frame contorted him into. A cool breeze brushed against the naked skin of his buttocks, making his sphincter tighten reflexively. This only brought another groan from the boy, as his ass was still tender and still caked with the drying remains of an afternoon spent in the service of others.
It had been an awesome summer job. All the teens in the area vied for a chance to be hired on at the Château de Silling Country Club as caddies to the wealthy crowd that regularly visited it’s greens. A well-spoken caddy could easily earn triple his weekly salary in tips alone on a single set of nine holes, which was why Colin paraded into the streets celebrating after receiving his job offer.
Colin did fairly well for himself, putting away more money than he had imagined in the first week alone. Of course, a large portion of that income was based on the fact that Colin was a merciless cocktease. He recognized several of his regular clients were more than just interested in a game of golf by the way they eyed him and the youth thought this to be a marvelous opportunity to milk some extra cash out of them.
With sly glances, mildly compromising positions when setting up tee-offs, and a barrage of other attacks, Colin kept them coming back for more. It was like the veritable goose that laid the golden eggs. But this goose was about to be cooked. It all came to pieces on the seventh hole, the farthest point from the clubhouse, with Misters Burke and Hare.
Mister Burke was having abysmal luck that afternoon, a fact that Mister Hare enjoyed taunting him over to no end. Casting his nine-iron aside, Mister Burke turned to Colin, who was leaning leisurely against the golfcart containing the two men’s clubs, waiting should he be needed.
“Colin, fetch the new club. It’s time to try it out.” He called, exchanging a wicked grin with Mister Hare.
The ‘new club’ was still shielded by a protective cover that Mister Burke had forbidden Colin to remove when they were preparing to set out for the afternoon. More than a little curious, Colin hopped to the chance to sate his snoopiness. No sooner had he pulled the cover off than his inquisitiveness died and he cast a nervous glance at the gentleman.
“What… ?” He asked, pulling the 'club’ free from the golf bag. It was some sort of manacle affixed to a long metal bar with another manacle at the opposite end. “I don’t think this is regulation legal.” The youth joked apprehensively.
“For you, dear boy.” Mister Hare chimed in. “We’ve invested a great deal of money in you in the past. It’s time you finally paid up.”
***
You voted for bondage, now you get some. Aren’t I the benevolent dictator?
The golf idea for the story was a late comer. Had it been suggested sooner I would have drawn the scene on a putting green with the flag sticking out of Colin’s ass. I’m just pleased I managed to finally finishing something. My graveyard folder is getting rather full from the last few weeks’ failures.
He staggered down the stairs, his awkward footfalls pigeon-toeing beneath uncertain knees. Each eye was still puffy with sleep and his hair stood upright in all directions like antennae to heaven. It was all he could do, having rolled out of bed onto the soft shag of the carpet, to pull his hoodie up over his bedhead.
Bare feet on cold floor, he scratched idly at his crotch waiting for the pot of coffee to boil. Even in his bleary state he was all too aware of the awkward bulge in his underwear, a chastity cage with a lock firmly affixed and a denied morning-erection even firmer within its confines.
It’s not that he was a heavy sleeper - well, yes, it was that. Piper was the type who buried his face in the pillow and snored the world away when the weekend came around.
The ding of the coffee-maker shocked him awake and the youth stumbled to find his mug.
***
Bedhead Piper with eyes full of sleep and a mug full of coffee. Painfully cute…
While in the midst of doodling my DnD party I was distracted by Piper. Not really sure where the idea came from, but I wanted to draw him again. I did two initial poses of him, this is the one that won out. But I included the second one because he’s got a cute butt.
I blame the Lady Gaga CD I was handed for this abmination. Rammstein, Fear Factory, Otep, Killswitch Engage, Combichrist, and … Gaga …
“Please… ehh… sir…” Scooter balked, his eyes staring pleadingly at the man in whose lap he sat.
Scooter vainly tried to glean more from the light touch of Sage’s fingers. It was enough sensation to keep him painfully hard, but barely enough to jerk him off. The boy squirmed in the man’s lap, thrusting his hips back and forth, side to side, anything to try to get off and get off faster. The pair of them had been at this for the last twenty minutes.
The ordeal was maddeningly frustrating: thirty days had passed since the last time he’d been milked. It wasn’t more than a day afterward that Scooter found himself as horny as ever and unable to do anything about it. Thirty days locked in the pink confines of his humiliating chastity cage. He had tried asking nicely, offering his Master favors (as though he had something to bargain with that was his own), and finally flat out begging.
In response Sage had bent him over the living-room coffee table and fucked him with a prostate massager. Several minutes of working at his engorged prostate and the teen was seeping seed onto the carpet, totally denied the experience of anything resembling a climax.
“There, you came.” He had said derisively.
The next day Scooter was even hornier.
“Oh fuck, sir! Oh … fuck, sir!” He whimpered, straining every muscle in his body in an attempt to push himself over the edge. Scooter had been sitting on the edge for the last few minutes, a fact which had him breathing in quick breathes, sweating profusely, and balling his fists around his shirt collar. “Please, may I come, sir?!”
“Get on with it. I’m losing interest.” Sage teased, feigning a yawn. At the same time he pressed a little harder and a little faster with his fingers.
Scooter bucked in his arms, emitting a long, deep groan that ended in a high whimper as he had one of the few but amazing climaxes his Master allowed him. An almost comical amount of seed caked his legs and torso as the youth breathed heavily, his body drained of all strength in an instance of pleasure.
“Oh god. Thank you, sir.” He purred, smiling up at Sage through half open eyes. His master returned the smile and leaned down to kiss the boy tenderly.
***
D'awww. Now I’ve done something cute, consensual, and … erm … cuddly.
Took for friggin’ ever to draw.
Thanks to the folks that watched the livestream and gave suggestions, and thanks to the people who responded to the journal with suggestions as well. It worked ^^
While Meg is the youngest of the two pups kept by Lord Leofric, he’s spent the longest in his current circumstances. Its been all he has known as life. As such, Meg is feral and does not understand the niceties of culture. He understands commands very well but is unable to speak himself. Largely because Meg’s tongue perpetually hangs from his mouth, forced out by a large piercing with a weight on it. His dirty and naturally dreadlocked hair forms a frizzy mane over his shoulders and upper face.
The other pup will likely follow as a portrait. I wanted to do one of the two of them midst the other dogs, but that seems overwhelming right now.
I love the color on this. I’m really proud of everything but the hair.