Dirt

Holy Fuck-up!

"Shit!" I muttered to myself. (A really 'heartfelt mutter' or would 'agonizing mutter' be more accurate?) I looked around my relatively small but well laid out house and an errant thought went through my mind: "Maybe if I just blew up the place, and told the network and the editors of that magazine that they had to cancel."

I looked about again, with amazing pride. I was an architect, and I designed this house. It was the culmination of all my work and most of my innovations over the years, designing homes with minimal square footage, yet 'roomy' enough and so organized and laid out, to provide a superbly usable and enjoyable living space. Exactly what most of my current designs were noted for.

And Architectural Digest, in cooperation with the network show, Abodes of the Innovative and Tasteful, wanted to feature my home in one of their upcoming issues, and record for one of the upcoming shows. The later, not precisely a smash hit, but watched by many of the 'right' people.

But the several guest architects whom they employ to help give them the required expertise for their in-depth critiques, had to reschedule. And they called to say they would be here early tomorrow instead of next week, if that would be all right. Whatever made me so impulsively agree to the change of date, I cannot now fathom. But it's done. I have less than 12 hours to 'sanitize' my abode. I certainly did not want to inspire the premier of Abodes of the Criminally Perverted.

I looked about again at my immediate living space and a smile intruded into my akimbo of thoughts, as it suddenly focused upon my most prize possession. My most precious slave. With his own eyes unable to look elsewhere than at his master.

Kneeling there in stark relief was something for which I lusted after for much of my adult life. I was thinking naked relief but perhaps the word naked could not precisely fit the small boy, since he probably had attached to him perhaps quite a few restrictive attachments. Items I designed with more than bondage in mind, but also with the intent to bring one's eye to latch onto the boy's most appealing assets. The smoldering black eyes, looking out above the gag and large muzzle, into which the boy immediately drew one's very soul. The darkened little boy areolae significantly darker and highlighting the boy's otherwise perfectly smooth dusky brown skin. The crevasse of mystery, which could be seen below the boy's immobile forearms and tightly mittened hands, inviting one to explore further into his little boy cleft between his pert and slightly dimpled globes of boy butt. The anal orifice forced into open relief by a ring held between the boy's legs and its invading strap. And most spectacular, his penis and scrotum, the central feature of his perfectly formed 12-year-old body. Again, a quite dusky dark contrast in hue, and most perfectly formed. The small glans capped the tightly circumcised penis. It was forced to stand out rigidly above the small but hanging scrotum, its full 4 inches [10 cm] of genital perfection, entrapped within a seemingly cruel chastity device.

But those eyes now seemed to hold a bit of apprehension as the slave watched his master in such an uncharacteristic display.

I looked about and realized that most of the items in view, and those throughout the house, could be gathered and stored in a sort of basement concealed below the main structure. Accessible by elevator, behind a concealed door, was a mostly unfinished little boy dungeon. Which should have enough room.

OK, I can do this, I thought. I looked over to my boy. And I have a slave to help!

"Boy!" The slave gave me his undivided attention as trained. "I expect absolute obedience as usual. I know that removing most of your restraints usually signals you to prepare yourself for your bed-duties, but this will be something different."

The boy dutifully nodded. With the extreme mouth gag, and muzzle which covered him from his slightly up tilting smidge of a nose, to well under his sculpted chin, his verbal replies were limited to mere low volume muffled mouthings. Enjoyable to listen to, but not very expressing of communication. And now I needed a work-slave, rather than a sex-slave. His training had eventually accomplished impeccable results, especially after several surgeries to 'maximize' his abilities. As a sex-slave. I never had him actually do any serious labor.

The first thing I did was to kneel behind my slave, using quite a bit of will power merely to caress his lovely rear orbs. (I didn't even caress his cleft and the interior creases surrounding his 'brown-bud'). I could feel his slight shiver. Knowing the drug regimen I had him on, and the 'upgrade' the slave doc had done to his interior boy parts, I recognized it as one of arousal and passion. The slave doc had been expensive but well worth the added investment.

I removed the short thickly braided cord connecting the links attached to the sides of his well-padded ankle cuffs (wouldn't want to damage my property) hobbling his legs. I then removed the link which connected the rings permanently attached to the boy's big toes. His beautiful boy toes, slightly darker than the other skin covering the tops of his feet, were likewise all encircled by permanent rings, and made for interesting attachment points of some of the bondage positions into which I put him. But now I needed him mobile and mostly unencumbered.

"Boy, stand up."

He immediately stood with remarkable grace considering the fact that he lacked the balance with his arms tightly positioned in the small of his back. He was a well-trained slave.

I moved to his front, admiring my boy. Since the drug-induced stabilization of his growth, and more importantly, his physical development, beginning nearly a year ago when he was first 'rescued' from his home in Thailand, he has stayed at a slightly diminutive 4 feet 7 inches [1.40 m], and a slim and lithe 70 pounds [32 kg]. His stature having already been of slight proportions for his age, a typical trait of his beautiful adumbral-hued ethnicity. My boy of choice.

I so vividly remember the very moment my eyes lit upon my boy. The photos had not done him justice. I remember as he was led naked onto the raised dais, number 37 at auction.

I'd had a commission to design a house on one of the Caribbean Islands for a millionaire. Not especially my specialty, but the islands lured me there on occasion. And this time, the lure included an invite to a boy auction on a nearby privately-owned island.

I had soon homed in on three of their delectable creatures on offer. Two from Thailand, and the third from a bit further south. I was quite attracted to boys of this particular ethnicity, especially the darker hued ones. The second of these instantly captured my attention and as I inspected him, also my salacious heart.

Amazingly, the naked boy looked about almost with more curiosity than trepidation, and merely squealed as my fingers examined his body in covetous detail. (Absolutely no penetrations of his body allowed). He was not quite 12 years of age at the time, having been procured by one of the auction's agents, seeking out those few boys of perfect age and mien, destined to trained to a life of sexual service to a discriminating collection of boy lovers.

I had outbid all others quite recklessly; and had the boy I so coveted first sent to the boy doc for modification. Awaiting his eventual shipment had been a couple months of agony. But so well worth the delay.

I allowed the memories to surface, but then intensified my efforts to get back to business at hand. I reached around my slave boy's closely cropped head, to release the two straps which helped keep his oversized muzzle in place. First the one which joined the twin straps lying alongside his small nose and joined between his eyes to continue its way over the top of his head. Then the one encircling from the sides. Of course, then I had to undo the binding which laced back and forth among the pegs which extended from his interior mouth gag, through the circle of holes which had been pierced through his thickened lips, and continued through the near circle of corresponding holes in the overlying muzzle. I soon had the muzzle disengaged, and worked to remove the interior mouth gag which filled most of the boy's mouth.

"Boy, you may exercise your mouth muscles."

He complied.

"Master, this boy obeys and submits." (A phrase he had been required to recite any time his mouth gag was removed). His language skills were improving, his severe accent now not nearly so pronounced as it had been when I first purchased him at the boy auction. He also had good practice now speaking with the changes made to his mouth parts.

"Boy, you may speak until I command otherwise." I thus also gave him permission to participate in conversation and even ask questions. I am not a harsh master.

"This slave thanks you master. Master, this slave really ready to do sex stuff." He smiled.

And squirmed, feeling the full effects of the interior butt plug as he moved to maintain his balance. One of my designs, wanting to stimulate the boy, but not wanting to keep his boy-hole opened very wide, I had a device produced with precise dimensions. The elongated bulb and ribbing inside his rectum was quite effective in keeping him stimulated, yet its quarter inch diameter flange did not keep his boy sphincter overly dilated. Just enough to kept in mind his rear boy hole. It also enabled the intruder to be kept in place, being positioned in the center of the ring which allows the folds of his striking boy hole to be displayed for his owner.

His boy parts had been both surgically and therapeutically enhanced so that he experiences only pleasure from our 'sex-capades', as he calls them. The slave doc did a good job enlarging his butt-hole and reducing his gag reflex. Also ridding him of his unnecessary teeth. The thickened lips and mouth parts having a two-fold result. It allows his face to keep its remarkably cute boy looks, and enhances his ability to manipulate my (modestly sized) penis. And I take good care to only gradually insert my penis fully into both sex holes, not wanting to either damage my (quite expensive) property, nor cause him undo pain. I wanted a boy fully cooperative as a sex-slave because he also enjoys our sessions.

As I implied, I am a very kind and considerate master.

"Boy, no sex for now. Right now, I will need you to help your master with something else. Thus, it is necessary to remove most of your favorite bondage gear."

The boy looked at me slightly puzzled, but still anxious to obey. As I said, he was a well-trained slave. And, knowing that he will be a 'forever slave', as he was want to describe his situation, he could concentrate of his slave rules without any distraction worrying about his future. He was just not used to be made to do much more than small duties such as serve my meals and limited cleaning up of his slave accoutrements, and other minor tasks.

I grabbed my slave's naked shoulders and turned the him about in order to remove his arms from their binders. The current slave-harness had a belt which snugly encircled his waist, and which had two wide leather padded entrapments holding the boy's forearms crossed in the small of his back, his tightly mittened hands positioned close to the inside of his elbows. I allowed him to swing his arms for a moment and then attacked the severe mittens which enclosed both hands into small fists. He then was allowed to flex his fingers and thumbs.

I turned him about, his toe rings clattering lightly on the hardwood floor.

"Boy, your hands and arms ok?"

"Yes Master. OK, Master. The new hand-things are real soft. Thank-you master."

"Boy, how is your boy-tube feeling?"

The boy's looked down at his encased penis, and his face lit up. "Master, real sex good. It very stiff."

The slave gave me one of his bright smiles, slightly skewed with the changes made to his facial muscles by the slave doc, but notable cute. With a slight tilting of his head, he added: "Master really ready to be sucked."

I loved my boy for his spirit and cheerful demeaner. He was quite a precious boy, easily trained in barely a half year of discipline and reward. My discipline included mostly pain-free methods only occasionally involving very light swipes of his cute boy-butt, which hurt his feelings much more than his hide. I was a very kind and considerate master. Besides, I wanted willing cooperation, not begrudging obedience.

"Boy, how's your new slave collar? Not chaffing like the old one sometimes did?"

"Oh Master. It doing real good. Nice and smooth. And fits nice on my neck. I like it master. And it makes me feel so wanted."

The boy had lived an impecunious and mostly unloved existence. A boy easy to ensnare and train into a life as a sex-slave.

I looked downward to the boy's captured genitals. The slave harness had two belts dropping from the boy's waist, engaging a small shaped ring, specifically designed to comfortably hold the boy's protruding penis and testicles. And putting them on exhibit so to speak. A separate piece easily attached to the widened ring-like fixture formed a small cage-like lattice of thickened entwined metal, easily encasing the boy's penis and scrotum. But with openings allowing the glans of the penis, and just enough of the other parts to show through, to be enticing rather than occluding.

The boy was now free enough of his bondage to help his master. Other forms of bondage, used on occasion, were scattered about. I wanted my boy familiar with all manner of restrictive bondage but was careful not to keep him overlong in any one position or type of bondage. And this current chastity device only stopped the boy from pleasuring himself; it certainly allowed full engorgement of the boy's penis. As I have maintained, I am a kind and thoughtful master.

"OK boy, there will be very important people visiting, and we have to clear out all your slave things that have gradually cluttered up the place, since your dungeon in the basement has not yet been completed."

"Yes Master. Boy help real good."

"You are a very good slave. Hungry or thirsty boy?"

"Thirsty master, that mouth thing gets me thirsty real much."

"Ok boy, for being such a very good slave, and giving me those very good sex feelings this morning, you choose."

The boy smiled his special smile. "Master, the cider stuff. Please master."

I discovered that my boy really liked apple cider. Especially the good tangy product we can get when the apples are in season.

The boy scampered off to his slave side of the refrigerator where he retrieved one of the special feeding bulbs. Its nozzle and squeeze bulb portions necessary with the changes to his mouth parts.

Then we proceeded with the laborious process of 'cleaning up' the house. Because of the design with its many built-in cabinets and multi-purpose features, it proved a bit more complicated than a regular house. Also, my obsession with my relatively new slave and the purchase of a huge number of slave related toys and bondage equipment. And recordings. And catalogues, and the boy's feeding devices, and etc.

And I just remembered, the butt cleaning equipment, specially designed for easy use by the slave himself, and which had to be taken out of the shower area. All to have been eventually installed down in his basement dungeon.

I looked at my watch. If I didn't sleep, I had now 10 hours.

We went from room to room, carefully eliminating all possible items which could even hint that I held a slave boy hostage, or even had the slightest interest in one. The boy was quite remarkable in his enthusiastic efforts to please his master. I would make sure to reward him when I was next able. He had been specifically enabled by the slave doc not only to have a rapid succession of dry orgasms, but with his drug regimen, quite intense ones. I loved it how he really squealed when I invaded his cute rear sex hole with my finger, then tongue, then my own penis as I attempted to time things so that his rectal sphincter clamped down on my penis at just the right moment. He was one very well trained slaveboy!

Back to necessities. I produced a small cart and we loaded it first with all recordings and other items in the theater alcove. The boy was quite helpful. I had the boy scampering back and forth carting the materials to the opened elevator door, ready to be brought down to temporary storage in the basement.

"Master, this one; I sure remember this one!"

I looked at the photo accompanying the recording which he held out. It was one of our more memorable occasions. I'd had the boy held bent at the waist, stretched out in a new bondage frame which had just been delivered earlier that day, and toyed with his special boy-parts and butt hole for nearly an hour, never allowing him final climax. I then had the totally frustrated boy turned about, still rigidly attached to that frame, and commanded him to minister to my own pleasure. Having his mouth and tongue first work on my own butt hole, and then my genitals, then back and forth, removing my penis from his mouth before orgasm time and again. Eventually I exploded down his throat, pulling out at the end to partially cover my boy's face with a heavy white coating.

"Put it with the others. And boy, we do not have time to recall our previous sex times right now. We need to get this done."

"Yes Master."

We went from room to room gathering up the smaller items. Leg braces here, arm binders there, cages for hands, feet and entire limbs scattered about. A few unique genital appliances, and butt plugs. And various mouth gags, and muzzles. Wow, I had definitely gone overboard in the past few months. My boy made several trips with the cart to the elevator, depositing the items into its currently opened maw. The panel designed to hide the opening currently recessed into the wall.

Office, entertainment room, kitchen, computer and bedroom. All three levels of the split-level house. We even found several items in the small enclosed garden with its unique pool which spanned its interior back third, and emerged into a more extensive outdoor pool which could be closed off in bad weather.

The difficult part. Carrying all the stuff into the elevator and dispersing it into the dungeon. No time to organize the items. We then had a small rest and more snacks, then resumed our tasks. The small boy barely able to help with the larger items. I hadn't realized that I had three different kinds of bondage crosses, two other upright, and one horizontal bondage frame, all with special attachments. And four different cages, with varying degrees of freedom permitted. The last one allowing almost no movement, with the boy's head and hands held within their own small encasements.

Another cage allowed for each of the boy's toes to be individually entrapped along with his feet and legs. Several hours later we had most of the items cleared away and in the basement dungeon. Two of the cages and one of the frames, I had to use a hydraulic assist I got out from the detached garage.

Then I had to go over every square foot of the house, making absolute certain that nothing escaped perusal and removal. Finally, with about six hours to go, master and slave lay down cuddling in exhausted entwinement.

"Master, I so tired. But this feel so good."

My slave seemed to like our moments of cuddling just as much as the intense sex parts of our relationship. I pulled the boy into a tight embrace feeling his boner against my groin.

We both dozed for a while and then I awoke to a sudden "Owie!"

I sat up. "Problem boy?"

"Master, sorry master to disturb you. But the ring-thing got twisted." He pointed.

The boy's current penis cage included a small ring which held in place a small rod which actually invaded the urethral opening. The ring must have gotten twisted as the boy's boner found itself trapped between my legs.

I removed the entire encasement. Ring and all. Together with the entire harness which held that device in his rectum. Then I couldn't resist. I quickly turned the boy onto his back and engulphed his entire boy package. The penis which had momentarily softened, suddenly attained adamantine rigidity. He soon had several boy spasms. I then turned the squealing boy about and rammed my hastily lubed penis into his rear sex hole. I tried my best to drag it out, but only lasted a short while.

After a necessary visit to the shower with its myriad of spray attachments, we dried each other off, I got dressed, and allowed my boy to wear his sandals, and an armless smock which draped down his slender body.

"Master?"

He rarely had to don this apparel.

"Boy we need to retrieve a number of items currently stored in the other side of the garage. Things previously removed to make room for all your toys.

"Yes master."

The boy was of minimal help but just his companionship was a joy and a moral boost. Finally, we were finished. I pushed the environmental controls to the max, set the alarm, and then we retired. I would have a short hour in the morning to shower, dress, and deposit my boy into one of the cages in his dungeon. The elevator was simple to operate, and as it reached the main floor, the hidden door would automatically open.

***

The next morning, with slave boy ensconced in his dungeon cage, not a scrap of evidence remained which would indicate such a boy existed. I had even cleared out his side of the refrigerator.

The entire entourage arrived, surprisingly on time. I basked in the glow of my life achievement and final recognition. I was in the mind space of a man who has finally arrived at the acme of his chosen profession and the attendant acclaim of his peers.

As the cameras were turned on, and the room's shadows lessened with the necessary light to make sure to record without too much contrast between light and shadow, a small accented voice intruding. The cameras all swiveled towards a very naked boy, in cuffs, collar, and penis ring, as he so innocently asked with timorous voice, holding out something in his hand.

"Master, the slave cage you put your slave in. You forgot to lock it!"

"Holy fuck-up!"

Epilogue

For those wanting a different ending

The man suddenly awoke with a start as the alarm light invaded the room. In a bit of confusion, he finally breathed out in relief noticing the beautiful morsel of boy flesh stirring next to him.

"Wow, what a nightmare!"

Later, as he was about to leave the dungeon, the master addressed his slave. "Boy it will be several hours. You have a comfortable cage and even entertainment." (A screen was alight on the opposite wall and the controller was in the hands of his caged slave boy).

"And boy, I'm making certain that your cage is definitely locked!"

The End