Mary and the Vet
Humiliation of a slave
I was Cock Cuffed
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My Toilet Training
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Death of a Captive
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British Pup in Nashville
|Subject: My Dog Boy |
Date: Thu, 5 Jun 1997 15:44:13 PST
From: SkiteNYC@aol.com (Skite)
I've been occupied with a little boy who had an advert in HX about being a dog slave.
We met at the Boiler Room a few weeks ago. I wasn't real thrilled with him - shoulder length blond hair, glasses, baggy jeans. His parents were paying for him to wank off studying film theory at NYU. I brought him home and he was an enthusiastic cock sucker but not real inspiring. When we were done, he left and as far as I was concerned, that was that. But the next night he showed up at my door begging for more. I didn't have a fuck in me, so I played some games with him, making him crawl around the apartment on all fours with a dog collar, licking my boots and then deep throating my cock for close to an hour. He wanted to spend the night so I made him curl up on the floor next to my bed.
I got into the habit of calling him at any hour of the day or night and ordering him to come over to suck my dick. Sometimes I'd make him wait outside my building a couple hours for me to come home. He was into the dog thing. I got him a stainless steel bowl and made him eat out of it on the kitchen floor. If he was bad, he got the punishment he deserved. One time I found him playing with my whip, so I made him crawl around with the handle up his butt, the whip dragging on the ground like a little doggy tail. He would let me play around with his butt hole, but wasn't ready to be fucked.
He was spending almost every night at my place, and some days not leaving at all. One morning he got up and respectfully asked that I unlock his dog collar because he had to go to class. He had some important final presentation. I normally would have, but that morning I decided it looked too good on him. Besides, I said, he should be proud to wear it in public. That got him turned on and not only did he wear the collar, but he had fresh cum stains on his jeans and t-shirt.
I'm really into shaved heads, and I had to see this kid hairless to know if he was worth my time. I was thinking about it all day at work, and got home real horny. He showed me how he'd spent the day cleaning my apartment and wanted my approval. I just sat in my barber chair, unzipped my pants and showed him his reward. He worked his tongue over my DM's for a while before bringing his hungry mouth to my boner. I stroked the hair for a while then reached over for a pair of scissors. He didn't seem to notice the chunks of hair falling around his face, so I grabbed my clippers, clicked them on and sheared a landing strip down the top of his head. His eyes lit up and he started to squirm, but I held his head firmly on my cock while I took off the rest of the hair. After a while, he got into it. I could tell by the way his tongue was working my hard cock jammed down his throat. It was well worth the effort. His whole attitude changed - the cockiness was gone, he was real humble. He looked more animal than human. He was starting to look like a real dog slave.
He didn't want to leave my apartment the next day and ended up staying for almost a week. One day I told him we were going shopping. The hair was starting to grow in and he seemed ready to go out in public. I put him in some boots, leather shorts and my Lonsdale t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. He said he didn't want to go out in public like that, so I put on the collar and leash and made it clear he had no choice. Just before we left, I ran the clippers over his head to give him a good, clean 0 crop. He made a hot little skinhead. The leather shorts were tight, and I don't know if it was the chafing or the humiliation, but his prick was bulging.
I walked him to the corner of Broadway and Waverly Place right by NYU where he had all his classes. I ordered him to wait there for me, knowing that he'd be seen by hundreds of strangers not to mention his classmates and teachers. I don't know how long he waited there, but when I got back he was gone. I went home and found him waiting for me. He'd tied himself onto the padded table. He'd laid out a condom and a bottle of lube. I wasn't too hard on him. He took his first fuck like a good boy.
The next day, I took him back to the same corner and told him to wait. If he didn't, I'd have to chain him to the bike rack. I sat across the street in a coffee shop where I could watch him. This time, he did as he was told. People stared, but he stayed put. I caught him looking at the store windows and he seemed to be getting off on his own reflection. He was turning into an obedient slave boy, and I knew I could have him if I wanted. That day, watching him stand there waiting for me, I was proud of him.
That night I told him I thought he was ready for the next stage, to be a real slave boy. He would have to be obedient and available at all times, take pride in his appearance by keeping himself shaved and in good shape. In return, I'd give him a roof over his head and keep his dog bowl full. I'd also keep his hungry ass filled with a steady diet of cock. He wouldn't be my only slave, and he would have to service my friends if I wanted him to. "Are you ready to be my slave?" He nodded with that stupid grin. I slapped him. "Yes, Sir!" "'Yes Sir' what?" "Yes. Sir, I want to be your slave,Sir!" I told him there was one more thing, that I liked my slaves to be marked so when I took them out in public, people could see they were mine. "Tomorrow you're getting a tattoo." He got a scared look on his face. "Where?" I had to hit him again, hard. He knew why. It didn't matter where, a good slave would do as he's told. I pushed his face into my crotch and drew my finger across the back of his head from ear to ear. "Here." I said that Paul was coming over the next night. "When he's done, then you'll be my slave." I could tell he had some thinking to do. The next day, before I went to work, I unlocked his collar while he was sleeping and left his clothes on a chair. When I got home, he was gone.
My friend Paul isn't exactly a tattoo artist but he has a tattoo needle and can do passable line work. It sort of looks like the stuff you see on the arms of Latino guys who got inked while being held down in some upstate prison. Paul's specialises in words, things like "Property of", "Fuck me, sir", etc. Paul showed up at quarter to seven and I gave him a beer. We'd gone through a six pack when I heard the door open. My boy walked in, closed the door and stripped leaving his clothes in a pile by the door. He walked past us without looking at me. He'd shaved himself, his body and head, even the eyebrows. I could hear him in the other room strapping his feet to the padded table. We found him face down on the table patiently waiting for me to secure his arms and head. His dog collar was locked on his neck. Paul was impressed. My dog boy barely flinched when Paul clicked on the needle and started scratching the first letter behind his left ear. After a while, Paul wiped away the blood and showed me his handiwork - a two inch, solid black "S." I reached under the table and grabbed my slave's cock and held it tight in my hand.
"Good boy. Four more letters to go."