Luke was busting his ass to finish a website development project when his phone chimed with an incoming text. Once upon a time he would have had the thing on silent when he was working this hard, but that wasn’t an option any more. He was Slader’s man now, and when Slader called, Luke answered. He finished the task at hand so he wouldn’t forget where he was, and picked up the phone. Sure enough, it was from Slader.
Dinner at eight. Luke smiled. Slader was always straight to the point. And it wasn’t a question but a command. He looked at the clock. Shit, it was already seven! Time always flew when he was deeply involved in a project, and Slader knew that, respected that, always gave him just enough time, just enough warning…but no more than just enough. Always just enough that Luke had to sacrifice something to be there when commanded by his man, his master – yeah, the word was starting to roll around in his mind now without sounding strange.
He saved everything and made sure it backed up to Dropbox before he stripped and showered. He was gentle with the washcloth on his left ass cheek, which still burned from two nights before. Toweling off and looking at his ass, the damaged cheek newly reddened from the hot shower, Luke felt a surge of excitement.
Two nights ago, Slader had been different. Usually his lust was so intense, his need so strong, that he practically threw Luke down onto the plywood table in his basement, restraining him hard and fast, his breath coming so hot and urgent Luke could feel it tickling his skin. But that night, Slader had been slow, methodical, almost…ritualistic.
And he revealed a new tool he’d made to use on Luke – Slader never bought anything he couldn’t make himself. He’d taken a clear vinyl office chair mat, the kind with the little spikes on the bottom to keep it from moving with the chair, to keep it firmly buried in the industrial office carpet, and cut it up into a paddle. He punched a few holes in it so that the air wouldn’t slow it down on its path – from in his hand, high over his head, down onto Luke’s ass, where the little spikes lashed his flesh, Slader’s expert hand ensuring they bit into his soft ass flesh but never tore and drew blood.
The new pain drove Luke crazy. Slader was like a personal trainer who never let you repeat the same workout too long, always created new exercises to shock your muscles – his tortures of Luke never fell into a routine, never repeated themselves the same way. Just when you got used to the black leather strap on your ass, the way Slader had mastered the placement so that it sometimes fell just a little high, just tickled the bundle of nerves at the base of your spine as well as the meat of your glutes…it was gone, put away till some unknown date, and this new device took its place.
“Ahh, fuck!” Luke swore like a sailor now when Slader tortured him. Once upon a time Slader would have told him to shut the fuck up and gagged him, but now it was different, now Luke’s screams of pain were compliments to Slader’s technique. “Oh, god!” he cried.
The paddle rose and fell, the space between strokes giving his ass full enough time to register the aftershocks, telling his brain to administer the endorphin rush that made the pain so good, that made his ball sack tighten and his cock get hard.
But once the pure fact of pain was done registering in Luke’s brain, something else crept in. Slader was brutally, methodically savaging his ass with the spiked paddle…but only his left cheek. Luke waited for the point when he knew Slader would switch off, as he always did eventually, whether he was moving from one ravaged nipple to the other, fresh one, moving from slapping Luke’s ass to slapping his face. But he didn’t. On and on it went, left, left, left…
Luke gasped as the realization hit him. Slader was saving his right cheek. Saving it for the brand.
It was like Slader could read his mind, had been waiting patiently for him to figure it out. “That’s right.” Slader dropped the paddle on the floor, and with two rough fingers, he slowly traced an S on Luke’s right cheek, starting at the bottom. Then the top of the S extended another letter’s worth of space, and Slader backspaced the coarse pads of his fingers to complete the letter with a downward motion, finishing with a curve to make the J.
“Oh my god,” Luke whispered. SJ: Slader Jacobs. And then his hand slipped under Luke to confirm what he already knew, that the knowledge of what was coming had made Luke cum a little. Slader flicked a slippery drop of Luke’s juice onto his finger and then stuck that finger right into Luke’s hole.
“Last time I can violate that ass for a while. You ready?”
“Hell yeah, sir!” Luke laughed, arching his ass, welcoming Slader’s big cock, welcoming everything that was to come, thinking back to the night a few weeks ago when Slader’s brother Jim had come home from the service, and the two of them had split Luke between them, using and abusing him.
“So you gonna mark him?” Jim asked, putting his watch back on in time to catch the wet towel Slader threw his way.
“I think so. I think he’s ready.” He looked at Luke. “Aren’t you?”
What did that mean, Luke thought? To be marked…marked by Slader. “Yes…Sir?” he said, wanting to do what Slader wanted but unable to keep his puzzlement to himself.
“I’ll let you choose,” Slader said. “The brand, the tat, or the piercing.”
Luke swallowed. This was it then…the moment he became Slader’s forever. A bond on his skin, in his flesh, Slader’s sign, irreversible…
Which would Slader want him to have? Tattoos were removable, piercings healed. Only one thing would show Slader how much he meant to Luke.
“The brand,” he whispered.
Slader smiled. He reached down and pulled Luke up to his feet by the ring in the middle of his duct tape harness. Face to face now, Slader leaned in, and Luke braced himself for the slap, the spit.
But it didn’t come. Slader’s tongue parted his lips, slid between his teeth, his own lips locking on Luke’s in a long hot passionate kiss. At last, Luke thought, having finally earned his master’s trust, his affection, the ecstasy of it boiling his blood.
Then Slader broke off the kiss and nuzzled his ear. “Good man.”
This was it! Luke thought, his asshole practically lubing itself like a woman’s pussy at the thought. Slader was on top of him now, his cock out of his tight faded jeans, spitting in his hand, slicking his own cock. Then he grabbed Luke’s ass, squeezed and parted his cheeks, the crushing pressure even more awful on his paddle-battered side. He knew Slader was going to ravage him, was going to make sure he got one hell of a fucking before he had to leave Luke’s ass be for…well, a hell of a lot longer than he wanted to.
“Fuck me,” Luke whispered, and Slader’s hand reached around to his face and grabbed his jaw, giving it a shake.
“Fuck me, what?” Slader said, shocked, angry.
“Fuck me, sir!”
Slader jumped off and ran around to the front of the table. He lifted Luke’s face with one hand and smacked him hard with the other. His mouth was clenched and his dark eyes were hot as he leaned down and spit in Luke’s eyes, making him flinch. Then he slapped him again, and again, on the left side of his face, mirroring the damage done to his ass…only never leaving a mark on his face, never doing damage anyone could see, even though it felt that way to Luke.
“Did you just give me a fucking order?”
“No, sir, sorry sir!”
Slader slapped him again for good measure and jumped up on the table, an athlete’s box jump, the impact of his booted feet landing on the plywood rattling Luke to his bones. Then with the practiced perfection of repetition, of intimate knowledge, the head of his cock hit its target perfectly, slamming through Luke’s sphincter, violating it, punishing Luke for his presumption.
Luke screamed in anguish, but that only excited Slader more. He pumped hard and fast, as if the clock was running, as if his cock was cage fighting with Luke’s asshole and had to get it submitted before the bell rang. Luke’s prostate rang like a bell, that was for damn sure, and Slader’s cock hit it every time, as even in his seemingly reckless abandon, Slader was still in control, still calculating every move of his hips, every stroke, every thrust.
And Luke sobbed with the pain, but not just with the pain – with the knowledge that Slader was cruel but never, ever careless. That he knew how much it hurt Luke to be fucked like this. That he knew how good it felt to Luke to be fucked like this. That Slader took his pleasure in giving pain, but never just pain.
“Please, please, please,” Luke said over and over, sweat pouring off him, getting hotter and hotter from Slader’s blood-swollen cock inside him, from the waves of heat coming off Slader’s body as he rammed Luke again and again, from Slader’s hand’s gripping his shoulders to keep him in place for each perfect shot from his nail gun. “Please, please,” he cried, not meaning please stop but please don’t, but no need to say any more than the word over and over, his apology, his plea.
“Fuuuuuuck,” Slader hissed, and Luke knew that was the sign, braced himself for the shattering impact of Slader’s eruption inside him. “FUCK!” Slader shouted, his rhythm broken now, dictated not by his own will but by the surging pressure in his balls, shuddering jerks of his body as he made sure every drop of his cum was implanted as deeply in Luke’s ass as it could go.
And with nearly the last jerk of Slader’s body, Luke shot his load. “Oh god! Oh god!” His hard cock was bent back, hanging off the padded edge of the table, slipping and sliding on the black vinyl. He shot like a fire hose, the wrongness of shooting down instead of up making it all the more intense.
Slader gave him what he needed, what he wanted, exactly what worked: a few well-timed pokes with his still-hard cock to make Luke cum just a little more than he wanted to, a little longer than felt good, the last squeezes of his prostate like a cramp.
Then Slader pulled out of him, rolled off of him, and laughed. “Shit.” He got up on the table till he stood on it in front of Luke. “Look what you did.”
Luke laughed. His cum was all over the hem of Slader’s jeans, pooled on his black boots. Slader didn’t need to tell him what to do. As he looked up at his smiling, approving master, Luke slowly and deliberately licked his own cum off Slader’s boots till they were clean.
Slader nodded, jumped off the table, turned around, reached down and scratched him behind the ear. “Good job.”