Master's Vlogger

by Bink Cummings

  “Me, too.”

  Ain’t that the understatement of the century?

  “See. Then you get what I’m sayin’. But Asher, my big softie, was won over by Bonez when I was at work. Somethin’ about a poor gay boy who’s afraid of men who need our help to maybe fix him.” He grips Asher’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and draws him in for a brief yet seriously spicy kiss that leaves his boy breathless. “Who can say no to that?” He grins wickedly, and I follow suit.

  “Touché. Well, if it means anythin’, I’m glad you’re here. This bein’ a last resort and all means a lot to have ya step up to help however ya can. Maybe after this, we can all hang together. Maybe go for a ride.” I nonchalantly shrug a shoulder not wanting to sound like a complete pussy. This feelings shit is foreign to me. For Michael, I’m trying.

  “Riding sounds cool, and it’s no problem.” He waves me off. “Hell, I was worried Bonez was gonna act a fool like he always does. Didn’t want you to have to witness that shit firsthand. He can be—”

  “Hey! Just because I’m rubbin’ my scrumptious baby batter all over my buddy here doesn’t mean I can’t hear you motherfuckers,” Bonez interjects, and we all laugh. Even Michael, who throws his head back and howls. The magnificent sound shoots straight to my heart, hurling it toward the stars.

  “Baby batter or not, you’re a damn handful when you’ve got some alcohol in ya. And even when ya don’t,” Justin smirks impishly.

  Bonez throws a dramatic hand in the air as the other holds his boner. “Lies. All lies.”

  Still laughing, tears roll down Michael’s flushed skin, a smile lighting his whole face. If he’s not careful his cheeks are bound to crack. Relishing my lover’s happiness, I push off my knees and go to him, drawn to his beauty like a moth to a flame. Bonez stops giving Justin the evil eye as I step in to his line of sight, towering above his kneeling form. As if nervous for some ridiculous reason, his bottom lip wobbles. The group goes silent, save for the wind rustling through the trees and the chirp of birds overhead.

  My gaze clashes with my helper’s and he releases his cock, letting it fall away from Michael. Without needing further instruction, he bows his head respectfully and shuffles backward on his knees toward Jake. He stands, and together they head for their tent.

  “Thank you,” I call to Bonez’s retreating back, grateful for his help.

  Naked, he stops midstride outside of the tent door that Jake’s unzipped. “A-any … time.”

  The stench of profound sorrow hangs in the air as that simple dejected word nearly brings me to my knees. Bonez was recently heartbroken. Jake said that was one of the reasons Bonez agreed to come; to get away from his own torment. I’m forever indebted to him for being able to power through his issues to help. Remind me to send him a thank you card the next chance I get. It’s the least I can do. Maybe a gift card, too. Or, some chocolate. Guys like that stuff, don’t they? I know my lover does. Anything for who I’d consider a fellow friend.

  Michael

  The cool pre-cum coating my nipples turns them to sharp points as the wind brushes across my oversensitive skin. Goosebumps bead. Master kneels where Bonez did. His hands gently glide over my shoulders and down my sides where he cups my hips.

  “You did great,” he praises, the corner of his mouth tipped into a lopsided grin that reaches his eyes, crinkling them in the corners. I down his approval like a shot of whiskey. It warms my belly to have pleased him.

  “Is Bonez okay?”

  I incline my head in the direction he and Jake dispersed. We were having a blast together, talking, laughing, sharing stupid stories, and by doing so, taking the awkwardness of the moment away. Then … he went … I dunno—sad? It wasn’t until Master dismissed him that I watched his mask slip. I know that look well. The one where you pretend you’re peachy when, in reality, you’re dying inside. His heartache must be brutal. I can’t imagine. I’ve never been truly heartbroken before. Never gave myself a chance to love until Master. Before him, I didn’t believe it to be possible. But, I can tell you that if he feels the way I do about Master with his partner, whomever he or she may be, the kind of hell he’s facing is all-consuming.

  “He will be,” Master replies.

  “You’re sure? We can stop so I can talk to him.”

  I probably should. I’m not nervous around him anymore, and he may need a shoulder. Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for my anxiety to vanish, and for me to view him like I did many of the masters in the commune—as a friendly face. It feels good to be able to get back to that. To realize not everyone’s out to rape me. Not that I rationally thought that before, but my brain refused to stand down. It acted on reflexes I learned living on the streets prior to my stay at the commune. I can’t live like that any longer. Master was right. We needed this.

  Master leans in to sweep a simple kiss over my lips. “You’re so kind hearted.” His mouth hovers above mine. I taste my bottom lip, desperate for more. Just a little. A sip from his tongue. Anything. I’ve been throbbing for what feels like hours. My poor hole begging to be stuffed with a finger, tongue, cock, toy, I don’t care. It hates the emptiness. Concurring with my thoughts, it clenches.

  A volley of obscene moans arise from Jake and Bonez’s tent, severing my musings.

  “Don’t think he wants to talk, baby,” Master comments with a hint of amusement.

  I chuckle lightheartedly. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” As they say, to get over someone, you need to get under somebody else. Guess Jake’s the perfect distraction.

  Kissing my forehead and nose, Master squeezes my hips once before he releases me to stand. I can’t move. My feet have long since gone numb. Now that’s something they don’t tell you when you become a submissive—that you’ll be placed in precarious positions that oftentimes hurt or make you lose feeling in your extremities. I’m used to it. But I thought you’d wanna know just in case you were contemplating this lifestyle.

  “Would you care to join us?” Master invites Justin and Asher with his strong sinful back to me. What I wouldn’t give to lick down his spine to the crack of his ass right now, then drop his pants and rim his tasty hole until my master begs me to own him as wholly as he owns me.

  I shake away the daydream.

  Wait a minute … what did he just say?

  I dunno what he means by join us. There’s two of them and two of us. Does this mean he wants to swap? If that’s the case, I’ll be crying red before anybody lays a finger on my body. It’s one thing to submit to Bonez’s elephant trunk stringing webs of pre-cum from legs to nipples, forgoing my genitals. This is quite another. Sharing Master is a huge hell no in my book.

  They stand and Justin weaves his fingers through Asher’s, who’s already tumbling down his own rabbit hole, if his glassy eyes and puffy lips are any indication. And if I’m not mistaken, the soaked jock he’s wearing isn’t all pre-cum. Someone already got his. Lucky bastard. Asher’s daddy is way more lenient than mine.

  They walk our way hand-in-hand until Master and Justin are facing each other inches apart. They speak lowly so I’m unable to make anything out as Asher sways on his feet, on the verge of losing his balance. If my hands weren’t tied, I’d help him to the blanket before he falls. Thankfully, Justin notices his partner’s unsteadiness and wraps an arm around Asher’s back, pulling him close. They carry on for a few minutes before Justin helps Asher to the ground in front of me. Master rustles around in one of the black duffels he set behind the logs and produces another pair of cuffs. He offers them to Justin, who secures Asher just as I am. His boy panics for a fleeting moment, and Justin whispers something in his ear. Asher’s expression softens and he nods faintly, accepting whatever it is his daddy said.

  Master kneels behind me again, massaging my biceps down to my forearms. “Are you still okay in this position?”

  I shrug. “My feet are numb, but my arms are fine.”

  “How do you wish to sit, baby?” His hands continue kneading.

&nbs
p; I groan contently. “However you wish.”

  “Michael,” he growls in warning.

  “Master,” I mock.

  Before I realize what’s happening, Master seizes the back of my neck and shoves me forward on to my stomach, forcing my side to brush against Asher’s knee. Without pause, his firm hand comes down hard on my ass, the noise echoing off the trees. I yelp. And he does it again to the opposing cheek, sending a shock of pleasure laced pain straight to my cock, which tries to buck, folded against my belly. My ass burns as another heavy-handed print joins the other two, then another and another until I’m left a panting, writhing mess. Sweat clings to my temples as I grit my teeth, refusing to cry out. Not this time. For pleasure, I’ll give him what he wants. Reprimanding me in front of others, not a chance. I’ll bear it. He can work me however he wants. I can take it.

  “You’re not counting,” Master barks.

  I tense, knowing he’s right. I should be counting. It’s a rule we agreed upon.

  “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven,” I wheeze.

  He chuckles menacingly. “Nice try.”

  Another powerful, pre-cum inducing slam ricochets off my bottom, overloading my system until my mind soars, then blanks completely before it starts to float among the heavens. I bite the blanket to keep from wailing. If he doesn’t stop I’m going to cum all over myself like a damn teenager. How embarrassing.

  “Eight,” I grit when he’s finished, clenching my cheeks to stave off the inevitable. My nuts flip me the bird, and I mentally return the sentiment with a double fuck you.

  Master tsks, dancing his fingertips over my heat swathed bum. “You’ve done great today, baby. But when I ask you a question, what do I expect?” His tone’s much calmer now.

  “A direct answer.”

  “Not?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Correct. Or?”

  “Sass?”

  Master good job pats the back of my thigh, then slips his hand underneath my prone form, encircling his arm around my middle as the other grasps the clip that links my cuffs together. All at once, he expels a strained grunt and heaves me backward on to my knees where I first started, bringing me face to face with Asher and his daddy who’s knelt behind him, mirroring Master’s position. Without warning, he pushes between my shoulders, forcing my chest to collide with Asher’s, landing flesh to damp flesh with a thud that momentarily strips me of breath. Asher appears just as startled when he tries to draw away, but his master doesn’t permit him to.

  “Relax,” Justin commands, gripping Asher’s shoulder.

  Unlike me, Asher doesn’t heed his lover’s words. Instead, he stares anxiously in to my eyes, our breaths washing over one another’s lips with every encumbered exhale. The chaotic beat of his heart thrums against my pecs as mine reciprocates with considerably less vigor. Even after my ass has been reddened, I’m not nearly as worked up as he.

  Within seconds, his breathing accelerates to panic attack levels and Justin can no longer control his boy. I take matters in to my own hands—figuratively speaking, of course.

  “Asher, take a deep breath and hold it,” I instruct steadily, and he complies as Master massages some sort of cream in to my throbbing bottom. “Now, blow it out.”

  He listens.

  “Again.”

  Together, I lead Asher in the breathing exercise I taught submissives whenever they had to endure pain they weren’t accustom to.

  For a good minute or two we respire as one until the color returns to his cheeks and his heart stops trying to slam its way into my chest. The urge to praise his strength claws its way up my throat. Swallowing the sudden lump, I suppress words of encouragement and remind myself this isn’t the commune. Asher isn’t a sub under my wing. He already has his Dom, and I mine. This isn’t a teaching exercise. At least not for him. For me, on the other hand, that’s a different story.

  “You okay?” I eventually ask when nobody speaks. Not even Master or Justin, who are supposed to be the ones in control. Why am I the one dictating this? I’m the sub for cryin’ out loud. Is this part of today’s ‘fix Michael’ itinerary?

  Bashfully, Asher nods, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his nose to middle of his lip until it drops off the tip of his chin, landing on our connected pecs.

  “We’ve never done this before,” Asher announces.

  “Done what?”

  Please, please, please tell me we’re not swapping.

  “Anything with another couple.”

  I stiffen.

  Master must read my reaction like the pages of a book, because his hand suddenly squeezes my shoulder as his furry chest meets my back. One arm curls around my hip where mine and Asher’s bodies don’t touch. He grips my waning bulge, hot breath tickling my ear. “You are not gonna be fucked by anyone but me, understood?” Master rumbles like chewed up gravel, sending delicious vibrations through my spine.

  I nod.

  “Say it,” Master commands, and I gulp, my Adam’s apple dipping.

  “I won’t be fucked by anyone but you.”

  “And why’s that?” Master nips my earlobe.

  I grit my teeth to keep from moaning. “I … I dunno.”

  “Because you’re mine, baby. You think I’d share any of this?”

  Punctuating his words, Master squeezes my semi, then shoves his hand down the front of my jock and grasps my nuts. Unrelenting, his blunt nails dig into the soft globular flesh. Powerless to subdue it any longer, a moan rips from my throat, and Asher’s eyes widen at the intensity.

  “Tell him,” Master orders.

  I whimper longingly as Master’s nail rakes the underside of my balls where it meets taint. My toes flex, praying that he’ll do more. More pain. More pleasure. More touching. Anything.

  “Master,” I rasp.

  “Tell. Him.” His teeth sink into the crook of my shoulder, steamrolling my ability to think at all. I shudder violently, ousting a garbled moan, eyelids lowering as potent, pain induced bliss floods my veins.

  “Wh—what?” I half-groan, half-moan.

  “Tell Asher how this feels. Tell him what you want.”

  “Wh … wh—”

  Before I can pose a question, Master interjects. “Do it. Now.” Then, everything in my world tilts on axis as my nuts are crushed and a nail sinks in to my taint.

  “Fuck!” I bellow, sharp pants leaving my lips.

  I yank on my restraints, back arching, smashing my sweaty pecs harder against Asher’s. His body trembles against mine, and I grin lazily. At least I think it’s a grin. I can’t fucking think straight.

  The pressure mounts in my groin, my cock throbbing so hard it hurts—amazingly.

  Master twists his wrist, and I nearly black out as I wail incoherently, ejecting animalistic sounds I didn’t know humans could make. Another twist and my cockhead readies to unload an awe-inspiring finale.

  “I … I … I’m gonna … come … Master. Please,” I beg.

  “Not yet,” he purrs in my ear.

  Another nail scrapes my taint, and my asshole clamps down—ravenous.

  “I need more,” I cry out, tears suddenly streaming down my cheeks.

  Master tsks menacingly. “Tell them.”

  Too mind-fucked to think straight, I obey. “I need my hole filled. Please.”

  Asher gasps. It’s a heady sound coming from such an attractive man.

  My dick bucks, pouring more pre-cum.

  The air crackles around us, growing denser with unspent lust.

  “What do you want it filled with?” Master tests, licking up the side of my neck to my ear where he teases some more, leaving my nuts in a perpetual state of blissful agony.

  “You,” I blurt honestly.

  “What part of me?” A soft nibble to my shoulder, his scruff scraping.

  “Any part.”

  Master chuckles darkly. “Even my fist? Or foot?”

  “Yes,” I wheeze, drowning in delirium, my head spinning, tears dripp
ing, body quaking.

  My asshole flutters at the prospect of being stuffed.

  Asher gasps another beautiful sound.

  “T-tell them.” Master tremors against my back, his voice breaking.

  “I want you inside me. Even your fist, Master. Give it to me. I want you. Any part of you.”

  Yes. Yes. Yes. Anything, my brain chants.

  Clearing his throat, Master pauses and draws a deep breath before releasing it slowly. “What about Asher’s pleasure? He needs it, too, baby. He’s watching you. Wanting more. Needing his own. What should he get?”

  ***

  Master

  Holy motherfucker!

  Resting my lips on Michael’s damp shoulder, I squeeze my eyes shut to lock down my fading self-control. This wasn’t supposed to go this way. He was supposed to talk to Asher and discuss their sexual desires. It was to start slow and grow to the point where both of them were rosy cheeked and breathing heavily while thinking about their fantasies. It was to open Michael up to talking about sex like he used to before the rape—freely. In the commune, he never swayed from teaching just like he does when making videos for YouTube. In person, with anyone aside from me, he clams up when it comes to anything sexual. Justin agreed it may teach Asher to open up more in the same sense—freely talking about what he desires most. We were going to use it as a Dom learning tool of sorts. Bonez was here to break down Michael’s walls, which, if I’m honest, worked too easily. Either Michael was that willing or Bonez is just that good. Then again, I don’t care as long as Michael doesn’t go back to shunning men. Not that I think today has fixed him entirely. I’m not that naive.

  Uh…Why in the hell did I let this get so off track? Now, I’m so fucking turned out I’m on the cusp of taking Michael’s hole without a second thought. And banging him raw until he can’t walk tomorrow. Christ! That’s exactly what I need. If I could learn to keep my damned hands to myself, this wouldn’t have happened. But… no... I had to go all declare-what’s-mine possessive and do the one thing I know drives him utterly mad with lust—crush those perfectly round balls. Add the taint scraping and I might as well have let him spend in his jock. It’s soaking down there anyhow. My entire hand is wet as streams of that clear lusciousness makes a giant mess. One that I’d happily clean up with my tongue if the moment permitted.