My Slave, My Master

Buford sat on the edge of the Baljeet's bed, waiting for Baljeet to speak.

"Buford, as you are now my slave," Baljeet began with a smile Buford didn't think was possible for the nerd. Buford had wondered what would happen, and now he was about to find out. Baljeet had saved him from an on-coming truck just that morning, and of course the bully code was enacted. "I think we should set a little ground rules. As my slave, when I ask you to do something, you will do it, no questions asked. Unless I tell you to do so, you will not speak. Answer me, am I clear?"

"Yes, little master." Buford hadn't intended on saying it, but he couldn't help but call him that.

Baljeet frowned slightly at that. "'Little Master' no longer suits me. Call me 'Master'."

"Yes, Master." Baljeet had a feral look on his face, and could feel the bulge in his trousers begin to swell.

As he calmly drew near, Buford saw something in the young man's eyes. It was almost—a desire for dominance? Whatever it was, Buford thought it was hot. Wait, hot? Buford mentally shook himself. I don't like Baljeet! I'm not gay! I don't even like guys! I'm straight!

All of his thoughts stopped, however, as soon as Baljeet fiercely kissed him, pressing forcefully against him. When he came up to glance at the other boy, his breath ragged he whispered, "If you ever want me to stop, just slap the bed."

When he didn't, Baljeet smiled knowingly and pushed him back onto his bed, delighted at this turn of events.

Running his fingers through Buford's thick brown hair, Baljeet smiled and locked his knees around the waist of the young man below him, and then leaned in to kiss him forcefully again.

Arching back like a bow, Baljeet ground their clothed members together, the unwanted jeans they wore creating an agonizing amount friction.

Buford squirmed underneath him, trying to unbutton his jeans and relieve the pressure around his swollen cock.

Pulling his lips away from Buford's Baljeet whispered huskily in his ear. "Stop squirming, my slave, or I will have to tie you up."

Buford's entire body jerked, and he gasped hoarsely as he collided with Baljeet again.

Taking his earlobe into his mouth and nibbling gently and then biting fiercely, Baljeet felt him buck under his weight. "You would like that, would you not? Tying you up, playing rough and fucking you until you come screaming my name?"

Grinding into him brutally, the Indian young man grinned unashamedly as he saw the spark in his slave's eyes. "Go on, my slave." He murmured as he ripped open the boy's shirt, the piece of clothing now ruined. "All you have to do is ask. Do you want me to? Tell me."

"M-master, please. I want you." He gulped loudly. "I-I want you to—" he couldn't finish the sentence. Baljeet had started using his tongue to create hot, wet lines down his chest.

"You want me to do what?" Baljeet growled, and bit down hard on his left nipple, causing him to cry out at the sheer pain and pleasure of the moment.

Shrieking, Buford struggled to speak. "Tie me up. Bite me, scratch me, fuck me senseless. Please, Master, please."

"Strip." Was the simple command Baljeet gave, and he complied eagerly.

Getting up off the bed, Baljeet walked to his closet to where he kept his belts, stripping his own clothing as he went. Taking the two best belts for the job, he turned back to Buford and instructed that he lie on his back.

Then he wrapped the belts around each of the brunette's wrists and fastened them each tightly to the bedposts, the lines taught, and climbed onto the bed himself.

Straddling his waist Baljeet knelt, and the head of his cock rested against the pale stomach of the man beneath him.

"Remember," he breathed as he grasped the young man's neck and ground their members together, "No talking. And don't come until I tell you to."

Buford nodded, partially because Baljeet hadn't told him to, and partially because he couldn't speak even if he wanted to. He was simply awestruck by the young man on top of him.

Baljeet leaned down towards him and took the soft, pale flesh of the brunette's neck into his mouth and bit down—hard.

Buford yelled, feeling the pain as a simple pleasure that brought his blood to an undeniable pulsing presence. Arching backward, the black-haired Indian boy took the opportunity to drag his nails down the older male's back, causing him to hiss with pleasure. And then he was bucking, bucking, bucking, so close to coming that Baljeet had to reprimand him. "Don't come, my slave, or I won't fuck you."

Don't come, don't come, don't come . . . Buford implored himself, struggling to remain in control of his reactions to the enticing man above him.

"Now, my slave, turn over."

It took some effort, but Buford managed to obey his master, by scooting backwards and then turning over so that his chest lay on the bed sheets.

Guiding him to where he wanted him, Baljeet dragged him up until he was on his knees, his legs spread wide.

Then he came up behind him, and Buford moaned at the slightest nudge of the head of his cock against his opening.

Reaching forward to where his face was, Baljeet thrust his fingers into his slave's mouth. "Suck, and suck good, because these are going in your ass."

And Buford did. Baljeet could feel his cock grow incredibly—almost painfully hard—feeling him suck his fingers as if he were sucking his own dick.

When they were wet enough, he pulled them out of his mouth with a rather sluggish pop and pulled them down towards his tight rim of muscle, circling the crevice until his slave was squirming for more.

And then he slowly slid a single finger in, letting the young man get used to the intrusion before adding a second digit.

When Buford began bucking back onto his fingers, he began scissoring the hole, stretching it wider. When his slave moaned in pleasure, he placed a third in, and splayed them wide.

"Ugh…" came Buford's response, and he knew he was ready.

There was a whimper from the brunette at the loss when he removed his fingers, but soon became a shout, out of both pain and pleasure as he slowly drove his cock into the virginal opening.

Baljeet had to stop before he entered his slave all the way for three reasons: one, he was going to come before he'd entered all the way if he kept going at this pace, two, Buford was struggling to acclimate to such a large intrusion all at once, and three, it was just plain hot to stop part way, knowing that only that much made you want to come.

When he finally drove all the way in so that his balls rested on the young man's own beneath him, Baljeet clasped the firm, round buttocks beneath his hands and dug his nails into them.

With a searing hiss, Buford arched his back. The line between pleasure and pain was one that drove him mad. Especially the pain.

Caressing the pained surface gently, Baljeet slapped his slave's smooth surface, causing redness on the pale surface, and drawing an elated shriek from the young man.

He continued to slap him as he plunged, drawing himself in and out of the tight, hot well of his slave.

Buford kept rhythm with his master, and realized soon that he couldn't control his own body.

When he heard his master demand, "Come, for me, baby, come for me my slave," Buford did, hard and long, and couldn't contain himself anymore.

"B-baljeet!" He screamed over and over as he came, and those sweet words brought Baljeet over the edge. He soon found himself wrapped comfortably in Buford's arms.

"Any regrets, Buford?" he asked curiously.

"Only that I'd never imagined you as dominant before, 'Jeet." He said with a smile. Then he looked down at him, his smile becoming a puzzled frown. "Why me, 'Jeet?"

"Because I have always wanted to fuck a man and you were the most convenient?" He said sarcastically. "Of course not. Why else would I allow you to 'bully' me after all these years? I have been wanting you for so long, and I felt it was time I showed you."

Then Baljeet leaned up to kiss him again, this time kind and sweet, rather than fierce and hard, and Buford kissed him back, happy to simply be with the man in his arms.