The Three Hundred and Thirteenth of One Thousand and One Nights – by Amalaric

[Click image to enlarge.]

You are perceptive and worth your master’s investment. Yes, bucks must be periodically masturbated- it has been written up in various scientific journals- for very specific reasons. The test of potency, of course, for practical purposes, but even after that initial ejaculation (when the master is both pleased and relieved to witness the virtuoso performance with dollar signs generated by the sale of future whelps dancing in his eyes) it is necessary to provide supervised relief on occasion. Stud slaves, as everyone knows, are always in heat and that is not a bad thing. The tension and channeled energy is well-used in hard physical labor. When time permits, under strict supervision and appropriate discipline, release is granted; measured and controlled so that it augments the virtue of submission and underscores the COMPLETE ownership of the buck’s body, in every aspect, by his master. And so, yes…

John stands, over six feet of restrained muscle, hard planes of flexed tension betraying his anxiety. He almost never wears a shirt and is used to that, standing bare chested, heaving deep breaths of expectation as the master takes his time, perusing the tall young buck with barely suppressed appreciation- what a sight!! John’s shoulders, massive and broad, are squared, glossy black pecs thrust forward, rippling abs hard with expectation. His beltless canvas trousers sag, revealing an inch or so of white loincloth and the top whorls of bristly pubic hair. ‘Hands behind your head, boy!!’ The command is promptly obeyed as massive arms are raised and long fingers clasped in the wiry black kinks of his short cropped hair. He feels helpless- commanded entirely by the will of his master, and utterly exposed- as the trousers descend another inch, clinging precariously to the high rise of his muscled ass. ‘You’re a fine-looking stud, John, and I reckon you crave some relief.’ It’s true…but not like this…not like this!!!! The buck’s face reddens with humiliation, unseen under the coppery coloring, as the master casually unbuttons the fly of his trousers and hikes them down to his ankles. The loincloth is blinding white against the black skin of his body, inviting exploration, bulging with promise at the juncture of his clenched thighs. ‘I asked you a question, boy!’ The master smirks, mocking the young slave’s shame. ‘What’s about to happen?’ John swallows hard, choking on the forced reply. ‘You’re going to strip me down, sir, and…’ The master waits, relishing his slave’s humiliation. ‘And, then you’re gonna drain my balls, sir.’ Pleased with the reply, the master playfully tweaks a pinched fingerful of pubic hair and slowly unties the loincloth, revealing the buck’s proud dick and ripe balls. ‘Damn, boy, no wonder you do so well hitched to the plow out in the fields- you’re hung like a fucking ox!!’ He grasps John’s pendulous testicles and gives them a light squeeze, moving up the shaft of his cock to the inky head of sensitive flared skin. The long stroke sends a shiver of embarrassed excitement coursing along the full length of the chattel’s long body. His cock stiffens, against his will and every instinct of pride or self-respect; just a dumb buck with a big cock and mindless balls in need of a master’s firm hand to keep things under control…and he shivers as the first tremor wracks his tensed body…


3 thoughts on “The Three Hundred and Thirteenth of One Thousand and One Nights – by Amalaric

  1. Amal, as always, the manip is pure perfection. But more than that, your writing can get a rise out of a dead man. The way you describe the ownership of this young buck appeals to all my senses. I’m adding this to my Amal folder for future enjoyment.

  2. Thanks, Hams. Considering all of the buzz in the world at the moment, I thought twice about this one. Finally, succumbing to temptation (haha) I reckoned that the beauty of what we are up to in places like this is that we can be as bad as FANTASY suggests with the full realization that it is only fantasy (and often satire) and fantasy (ironically) knows no boundaries. You wouldn’t recognize me, or my values, in real life…sorry to ramble so!!! I think, though, that the same may be true of you- loved the Russian dissident (can’t remember how to spell the guy’s name) piece that you did recently. Keep them guessing…and thinking…

  3. Love this.
    Amalaric, totally with you in your thought on how far and beyond fantasy can go vs. our real lives. And many times not to necessarily always fear, but to at least be careful with whom we share our fantasies. Great work, I appreciate you shared it.

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