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1. Ownership

Mr. McPherson’s dildos, a mix of flesh-colored and black, some clean, some not so clean, spread out all over the unmade bed. A few others were nestled in the leather sling, while several various sized butt plugs all stood upright like proud soldiers at attention on the nightstand. Jesse looked over the bedroom. It was part of his job, he reminded himself, to clean them. And he was happy to in exchange for Mr. McPherson and his associate, slash housemate, slash whatever he was to Mr. McPherson, Dante—who he'd yet to meet—given their downstairs studio at their secluded island compound. 

After flunking out of his junior college's Spring semester, he answered Mr. McPherson's ad that said there would be light housekeeping in exchange for room and board and a small stipend. It wasn’t till his second day on the island that Mr. McPherson informed him 'housekeeping' included washing up a large collection of sex toys. The other requirement, he learned after he’d settled into his room, was a 'uniform' he was to wear inside the compound—a pair of skimpy white shorts, sandals and nothing more. Surveying the room he found some of the toys were unbelievably huge, some anatomically impossible. How they could even be incorporated into the act of sex was mysterious, if not a little disturbing, given the destruction or distortion on the impacted asshole. Yet a part of him was a bit enticed to try one or two out at some point. 

The only sound of the compound was soft surf in the distance and the quiet vacuuming of the pool man outside. Right now might possibly be an opportune time to put his curiosity to the test. He walked around the room seeing if there was a small one he might try or one he might tease his hole with. Yes, he picked one up that seemed perfect. He laughed to himself he was Goldilocks, settling on one not too big but not too small.

Suddenly he heard a flush and Mr. McPherson burst from the master bathroom, completely naked, and stumbled directly into him. Jesse, with a wet, rubbery ten inch dildo wobbling in his hands, took a step back to steady himself. He peered down gawking at his employer’s dick. Although the cock was flaccid, it dangled mightily mid-way down Mr. McPherson’s sinewy thighs. 
Apparently still high from the night before, it took Mr. McPherson a moment to place who Jesse was. Balancing one hand on Jesse’s thin, hairless chest, he focused, his dark knitted brows relaxed as he snapped his fingers, mouthing quietly to himself, “Jesse.” A bit of a hazy smile came to light in his twinkling blue eyes.

“Yes, sir, Mr. McPherson,” Jesse responded. Mr. McPherson’s hand slowly ran over Jesse’s smooth, youthful chest, pausing on the boy’s right nipple and giving it a slight tug.
Mr. McPherson shook his head, saying, "No-no-no. No mister, boy. ‘Sir’ is…adequate. That is when no one is around." Mr. McPherson looked theatrically left and right. "And no one, I see, is around.” Mr. McPherson grinned, displaying two rows of shark-like teeth. 

Aside from his intimidating smile (or maybe because of it) he appeared to Jesse to be the perfect Daddy type: a very fit late forties, early fifties, alpha male; a gym rat and probable partier; a Polo-clad rich guy, semi-retired. While cleaning Mr. McPherson’s downstairs office, nosing around on his computer, he clicked through screens of stocks, cryptocurrencies, and real estate properties the man owned. Judging by the photos on the bookcases and hanging on the walls, images of Mr. McPherson beaming next to ex-presidents, Arab sheiks, some vaguely familiar world leaders, and more than a few famous—always male—Hollywood celebrities, made it seem like this guy knew everyone important on the planet. During the interview, his habit of stroking his dark goatee and looking sideways at Jesse kept him a bit off-guard, but whatever hesitation he detected from Mr. McPherson regarding hiring him, Jesse tackled head-on with contagious enthusiasm that repeatedly brought out Mr. McPherson’s shark grin. The man charmed Jesse in return with his roguish manner throughout the interview. And when he impulsively hired him on the spot, the contract scanned to find his weekly salary and frantically signed before Mr. McPherson changed his mind, Jesse fisted the air crowing Yes!, issuing a devilish outburst from Mr. McPherson. That this handsome stranger with his rugged, noble looks, his silver mane of hair, his manicured nails, his shirt sleeves swollen by flexing biceps, had actually chosen him for employment, why he felt he’d won the lottery. Now, with Mr. McPherson naked before him, Jesse couldn’t believe his circumstance. He tried to be as casual as possible, as if this happened all the time. And as much as he managed to keep his tongue securely in his mouth, he couldn’t help but fixate on Mr. McPherson’s powerful chest, as smooth as his, but bronze with powerful pecs that sculpted perfectly to two fleshy nipples that—for fuck sake!—had two horseshoe piercings through them.

Mr. McPherson sensed Jesse admiration. He rewarded him by swaying his hips so his dick swung hypnotically for Jesse’s benefit. The boy couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the pendulum that cascaded under a generous patch of dark brown pubes. Pointing to the sizable dildo Jesse held, he asked, “You fancy that one, eh?” Jesse gave a quick, impish smirk. In a confidential whisper, Mr. McPherson boasted, “Mine's bigger.” 

Jesse blushed and looked around the room trying to focus on why he was there. “Uh, I finished your office, sir. I figured you were out, like, maybe you’d left the island, so I, uh, thought….” Jesse rambled rapidly, not sure why he was trying to pretend that Mr. McPherson wasn’t outright hitting on him.

“Let’s sit,” Mr. McPherson said, pointing to two easy chairs in front of a picture window that looked out to the sea. “Let’s…get more familiar with each other, shall we? And I must sit because I am about to fall over. Rough night.” He patted a chair taking the large, fat dildo from Jesse and plopped it on a low table separating the chairs. “Interviews are such an impersonal way of knowing someone. And now that you’re here, in the flesh—and what flesh, I have to say—I should like to get to know you better.” 

“Yes, sir,” Jesse replied, easing into his chair. He tried to avoid looking at Mr. McPherson penis which had begun to rise half-mast. (A losing battle at best.) He felt a need to shift his own hardening cock in his shorts. He crossed a leg, trying to casually hide a bulge that was forming.

“Are you satisfied with your quarters, Jesse?” Jesse nodded. “You’re directly beneath us. I hope we weren’t too noisy last night. Dante and I had our boys over. Very dirty boys, as you can see.” Mr. McPherson waved his hand over the room. “We do love our dirty boys—Dante and I—the dirtier the better.” He sat back in his chair, which only emphasized how rigid his pole had become. Nonchalantly, he began stroking it, his eyes fixated on Jesse. With a bit of a deer in the headlight glaze, Jesse fought to keep his eyes from dipping down. “Tell me: have you had anything this big fuck your arse?” He revealed once again his exceptionally wide grin. “Or this,” he asked, grabbing the dildo off the table and letting it flop back and forth next to his erection. “Or both,” he chortled, truly eating up Jesse’s arousal and awkwardness. 

The saying It ain’t bragging if it’s true popped into Jesse mind. Mr. McPherson wasn’t exaggerating: his cock easily topped the ten incher and was even thicker to boot. 
Jesse gulped and shook his head. “Nothing that big, Mr. Mc-….Sir.” He glanced anxiously out at wide expanse of the ocean, then darted his eyes quickly back to the man, trying to hide this strange mixture of unease and enticement.

Mr. McPherson licked his lips continuing to study him. “You really are one of the most stunning boys I’ve met in a very long time, Jesse. Your parents, Irish and Italian, yes?”

“Were, sir. But yes.” He’d related as much during his interview—his family situation, the difficult past year, his self-assurance about his future. “Dad was Sicilian, mom was from Cork. Like I said, they left me a little something. But now,” he exhaled a pfft, lifting his palm to indicate this house, this lifestyle. “I can’t ask for more than this.”

“Such beautiful coloring,” Mr. McPherson said, not paying him heed. “You ran track in high school, yes?” Jesse affirmed this with a nod. “Like a fine race horse ready to be broken in. What delicious brown eyes," his employer said, leaning towards him. "Gorgeous chestnut hair, which, if you don’t mind me saying, would look great buzzed," he said, running his fingers along his scalp. "And such pale white skin," he cooed, running his knuckles across Jesse's peach fuzz cheek. He squinted. "I want to give you, Jesse, exactly what I think you want, things you deserve." The offer came across a little menacing if not domineering. It made Jesse’s heart beat a little faster. "Being a runner, you probably don’t smoke,” Mr. McPherson asked, pointing to a bowl on the table, picking it up and examining it.

“Grass, sometimes,” Jesse answered, curiously meeting Mr. McPherson gaze.

“I think you’d enjoy this. Our boys seem to, as so do I.” He lit the bowl, got smoke billowing inside, and passed it over. Jesse inhaled the swirling smoke and then quickly blew it out. “That’s it. But try keeping it in just like grass.” Jesse sucked the thin remaining wisps. Mr. McPherson leaned over and gave the pipe another blast of flame. With this hit a strange tingling began inside his brain, animating a sensation he hadn't felt before, an excited energy rather than the calming effect he usually felt with pot. 

Seeing the spark in Jesse's eye he was waiting for, Mr. McPherson lit the pipe a third time. With this stronger hit suspended in his lungs, Jesse noticed Mr. McPherson’s enormous hard-on—which he suddenly had no problem staring at now—had formed a bead atop the pee slit. A thought snuck up on him—from where or why Jesse didn’t know—but he wondered what that bead would taste like, if it was salty like when he tasted his own cum? Maybe it wasn’t pre-cum but maybe a bead of pee at the tip. He wondered what that would taste like. Traveling along these thoughts, his erection started making his shorts uncomfortably tight. 

Mr. McPherson noticed him squirm, stroked his pointed goatee, giving Jesse his sly sideways grin. "Time to slip those off, eh? Just us boys here,” he said, taking the pipe back and adding new contents from a baggie. He lit the pipe, drew a hit, then passed it to Jesse. “Try taking a deep hit this time. That’s it. And one more.” A coughing fit ensued, Mr. McPherson padding his back, which, as Jesse regained control, evolved into a slow, sensual caress of his back and shoulder. “Makes you feel good all over, am I right?”

“Fuck, yeah, Mr. Mc-.” He stopped again and corrected himself. “Sir,” he coughed, attempting to clear his throat. He fell back into the chair observing how bright and colorful the room shined, how alive the printed birds on the chair's fabric seemed. He lifted his gazed out to the shimmering blue ocean. “I never felt nothing like this. Not even the best weed. Makes me kinda horny too. Like, shit, I feel like I could do anything.”

“What you should do is drop trou, boy. Get comfortable like me,” Mr. McPherson suggested.

Jesse gave the pipe to Mr. McPherson who set it on the table. He didn't understand why Mr. McPherson’s recommendation held such sway over him, but he felt a powerful need to indulge the man, had an urgent desire to get naked in front of him, lure him with his body. He eagerly unbuttoned his pants and pulled them to his ankle, then kicked them off leaving him, for the moment, in his underwear with a big lump under the white cotton. Mr. McPherson gave his index finger a wiggle indicating the underwear should also come off. Jesse slipped his briefs off and his hard-on slapped against his tight abs, revealing a brown, wispy treasure trail that whorled down to a patch of darkly trimmed pubes. What wasn’t lost to Mr. McPherson’s eye, was out of the sparse nest of pubes, a long slim cock arose, topped by a large, perfectly formed, purple head, pierced by the small silver ring of a Prince Albert.

“Yes please,” murmured Mr. McPherson. "You are full of delightful surprises, Jesse." He reached over and gave the P.A. the lightest of tugs. "I foresee larger and larger gauges in your future. A double-zero, I predict, by end of summer.” He leaned over and picked up Jesse's underwear, and discovered a brown skid mark running down the back of it. “And yet more surprises!” His eyes lit up and his shark teeth bared. “Good God! Forget the shorts. From now on, only these,” he waved the briefs, “These are to be the only thing you wear within the compound. Capisce?” He then took a deep inhalation of the skid mark. Without understanding why, Jesse felt even hornier. He only knew he like Mr. McPherson paying so much attention to something dirty about him, something he should have been ashamed about but right now wasn't. “Suc-cu-lent," Mr. McPherson purred, stretching out each syllable while sitting back taking in the young man’s scent. Content after his lasciviously savoring, Mr. McPherson’s smile waned. In a darker register than Jesse had heard, he intoned, "Up." 

Jesse felt the mood shift introduced by this new darker tone. He knew to obey the man; there was something he liked about following Mr. McPherson's orders. Mr. McPherson twirled his index finger, and Jesse slowly spun around for him. 

“I expected you'd have a speedo tan line like that. I’m going to enjoy devouring that ivory ass." There was no question of Jesse resisting Mr. McPherson when his voice dipped even lower and seductively announced, "You need to get in that sling immediately.” 

This desire to obey overwhelmed him. Jesse marched straight to the sling and took a brown crusted double-headed dildo and large horse dildo out of the sling, and put them on the nightstand next to the regiment of butt plugs. He settled back in the sling struggling to hook his feet in the hanging leg straps. Mr. McPherson took one of his feet, then the other, snapping each into padded ankle restraints. Secure in the sling, Jesse’s legs spread wide apart, his anus prominently exposed. He was simultaneously nervous and very excited. “First time in a sling, sir," he confessed, stretching thin arms back, clutching the metal chains above his head.

Mr. McPherson surveyed his prize—the boy with his gold-speckled brown eyes, the anxious brow, sharp cheekbones that could cut diamonds, dimples of joy, his sculpted jawline, wisps of chestnut hair in his pits, ribs prominent and excitedly rising and falling in anticipation, the sun blazing through the window hitting the boy’s erection like a sundial’s gnomon casting a shadow over his public bone, his beautiful young balls hanging in their sack like red grapes ready to be plucked, and finally, the proud display of his puckering trophy, the central brown target framed by two magnificent orbs of perfect white flesh, pearly gates to ruination—all his to remold and defile.

Mr. McPherson growled, “You like showing me your dirty pussy, don't you?” He stood between Jesse’s legs, his hard-on drooling pre-cum over Jesse’s torso. The boy smirked, sticking a finger in his navel where spooge had collected, and put the liquid to his mouth. Mr. McPherson sneered, then knelt between Jesse’s legs and drew in a deep inhalation between Jesse’s fleshy globes. 

Jesse felt the slightest touch on his sphincter from Mr. McPherson's pointed tongue. The tongue flattened out and gave Jesse's hole a broad lap. The tongue sharped to a nib, circling around the hole, then dove straight in, causing Jesse to inhale from sudden pleasure. “For fuck sake, boy.” Mr. McPherson snorted. “Don’t you wipe?” 

A wicked smile expanded over Jesse's face, as Mr. McPherson spread his cheeks digging deeper into his hole, and lapped at his smudge. The vulgar affinity he suddenly felt with this man triggered thoughts more vile than he’d ever allowed to surface. “No, sir. Never!" he snarled, "I love secretly having a dirty butt. You can do whatever you want with it, my shithole. I’ll stop wiping from now on if you want.” 

Mr. McPherson emerged between his legs, seeing the lad's eyes dark with lust, just the way he liked his boys. Jesse’s hands pulled his legs farther apart to give this man, this corrupting influencer, as much access to his bung hole as possible. "You want to fuck my nasty shit pussy?" he rasped hoarsely.

The sleazy desperation from the young man caused the man to rise, lean over, and plant a sordid kiss on the boy’s mouth. He slithered his slime-coated tongue into the boy’s hungry mouth. 
Jesse instinctively understood the new taste, and didn’t seem to hesitate accepting it. Abruptly with the kiss, he understood this man would be his teacher, his mentor, ultimately, if not immediately, would be his master. 

He observed the man creep to his side, evaluate his suspended body like a predator examining a prey that had been caught in a lure. The man pull up along his ribs, took one thin arm and locked it in a leather restraint, then reach across his torso, his cock gliding over the hairless chest leaving a trail of slime as if a giant slug were oozing a malignant discharge over his boyish breasts, marking him as his, the drooling cock close enough for Jesse's tongue to reach. As Mr. McPherson leaned over, buckling the final appendage, Jesse touched his tongue to the salty piss slit and got his first taste of the man’s secretions. 

Securing the buckle, Mr. McPherson spoke in a deep rumble replying to the boy’s question, “Fuck your shit hole? Oh Jesse. I’m going to do so much more than fuck your shit hole." He placed a finger on the cleft of the boy’s chin, bid him to open his mouth. He bent over and released a long string of brown sludge into the boy, then, with the same finger closed his yap, sealed his mouth. 

Mr. McPherson rose and paused, observed that Jesse’s PA had some seepage leaking off it. "Pre-cum. A good indication of what you’re open to, boy." With his finger Mr. McPherson drew away a white thread, a slack web from slit to finger, and placed the trace of pre-cum on Jesse’s lip. Jesse drew the finger into his mouth and sucked. Mr. McPherson’s eyes glistened wolfishly. His lips drew back and teeth emerged with his preternatural smile. "Never be ashamed of being a vessel of another man’s waste," he advised the boy softly. "Nor of your own. If it feels right and you like it, that’s all you need to know." He placed his lips again on the boy. Jesse responded with tongue, and with passion. 

The predatory man circled round between the boy’s legs, lubing his cock as he approached. As his body brushed the inside of Jesse’s thigh, he grasped the boy’s pelvis and with his cock began to manipulate the boy’s hole against his rigid pole. "It comes out we like much the same thing, Jesse. That’s rare. Such a promising start. Who know how much I can show you?" Jesse nodded in eagerly.

The man slipped a slick finger in boy’s hole, lubing all around, then start to bob just his wide head repeatedly against his hole. He didn’t penetrate too far, just enough to introduce the girth that would be demanded of him. "First thing, we need to break in this tight, very tight butt hole." Jesse moaned loudly as the tip assuredly popped inside. "Push against me, boy," he encourage. 

As Jesse flared his ass open wanting Mr. McPherson inside him, he strained against the girth he was required to accept. The man rocked his cock in and out without complete removal, repeatedly pitching forward and back, until he saw signs of growing desire in Jesse's half-glazed eyes. He paused after inserting a few inches, feeling Jesse rectum clutching tightly on his member. He pulled out an inch then gave Jesse half an inch more of his shaft. Jesse rode him expertly for a while, wanting his penetration more with each new thrust. Mr. McPherson gently fucked him, taking him to a depth that might have been the deepest he’d ever asked of his ass. 

Probing further still to see what the boy could tolerate, now with each centimeter gained Mr. McPherson seemed to cause Jesse torment. But with slow determination he detected Jesse’s pain could be turned to pleasure. With a good portion of his member penetrating the boy, he felt a constricted second sphincter muscle blocking him from going deeper. He ground his hips, pushing hard against the boy's inner sphincter, feeling it starting to give way. He could see in the boy's alarmed eyes he was hitting a spot new to him. He leaned beyond Jesse and reached to the nightstand, grabbing a bottle. He uncapped it, put it under Jesse's right nostril and, with a finger, closed his other. "Inhale," he instructed. "Take a deep hit." Jesse obeyed, and Mr. McPherson felt his second sphincter loosen just a bit. He switched nostrils and had the boy hit the bottle again. He pushed hard and felt the clutching sphincter spread as he gyrated, pushing his enormous shaft deep into the aroused boy. 

Just when he was almost through the obstruction, the boy’s body erupted spasmodically. "Fuck, fuck, fuck" Jesse wailed. “Wait. Shit, fuck, Mr. McPherson. No, I can't take it." His body clenched, trying to expel the attacking phallus.

"Yes you can,” he said, ignoring the pleas, giving the boy another hit of poppers. “Want it. Want me in that place you’re feeling right now. Trying shitting me out. Push hard. Clench!” He felt the boy’s rigid entrails clamp down, then flare, and slowly allowed, millimeter by millimeter, him to gain access. Astonishingly, all at once he slid in two full inches. He experience incredible pleasurable in this deep penetration. He thrust in past the constriction which erotically clutched his engorged head. He realized Jesse, beneath him, head back, cheered him on, stuttering yes-yes-yes, surrendering to more of his shaft as it pushed onward into the boy. 

Jesse face, which had been grimacing in discomfort, his body understood how helpless it was to resist, and relaxed, succumbing to the corrupting power of having his guts flayed internally. An inner cavern had been breached, a sensation so rich in pleasure he wondered where it had been hiding. He begged to be fucked harder, fucked deeper.

Mr. McPherson rocked steadily enjoying the boy’s offering him his body. “You like this? You like someone in you so deep you're a whore for more?”

Jesse nodded enthusiastically, opening his mouth in awe of this feeling. “Yeah, yeah, right there,” Jesse stammered, taking protracted satisfaction in abdicating his body entirely to the impulses of this master.

“And we've still got further to go," his master warned, grinding his hips round, stirring the boy’s innards this way and that, marking the boy flush red faced, watched his breathing synch with his, feeling the boy’s heartbeat throbbing in the tip his cock, sensing the boy’s rectum of fine strings being plucked apart as he journeyed deeper into the conquered territory. 

In the corner of the boy's eyes, tears welled, he gnawed his lip, gasps burbled at each new sensation his master caused. 

Then the man paused.

Jesse focused his eyes quickly. In spite of being on the verge of pain, he still wanting more. He implored, "Breed me, master. Cum inside me.” He searched the man’s face, gave the man’s cock a squeeze with his inflamed entrails. “Why’d you stop, sir?"

Mr. McPherson grabbed the poppers, took deep hits, and stood there for a good, long while. Waves of pleasure washed over him, feeling how good his cock felt buried in such a wet boy pussy. Then a trickle of urine began leaking into the boy's cavity.

It took a moment for Jesse to recognize the unfamiliar sensation he felt in his body. "Oh, fuck. You're taking a leak in me?"

"Like a racehorse, boy" Mr. McPherson panted, the trickle immediately turning into a geyser. This powerful blast shot into the boy, while an immense expression of relief spread across the man’s face. "God damnit! I've needed to piss for so long!” After turning on the spigot to full force, he turned his internal attention back to the boy. Gazing down on him, he said, “This’ll be extremely charged piss from last night, Jesse. Relish it. Not all boys are as lucky as you to get daddy enhanced piss with his first fuck." His eyes rolled back as his urine flowed in blessed relief. Holding onto the sling’s top bar, pushing his firehose of piss into the lad’s body, he allowed his bladder to explode. He squeezed his bladder muscles, enjoying how his cock toyed with the boy’s entrails, easing up then deluging his piss stream again, his cock plugged so deeply into this clutching pussy, that he couldn’t resist taunting the boy, "You like being my pisspot? You consent to be daddy’s toilet?"

Surprised, yet not shocked, Jesse replied, "I love it, daddy. I want your piss, sir," he groaned with no hesitation, absorbing the flow of urine running into his deepest parts. He began rocking in the sling to take more of his master’s cock.

The boy's loosening sphincter wasn’t getting lost on Mr. McPherson either. He felt Jesse accepting his manhood, possibly the remaining mass which was still a sizable amount but seemed like Jesse was in reach of taking it. Jesse continued to welcome the anaconda and his master's piss simultaneously. The intoxicating flow made him frenzied. He flared open his legs, eye crazed and widened, he confessed, blathering, "I want master’s piss day and night. I want master to come down to my room whenever he has to take a leak, stick his cock in me, let me be his urinal. I want to be his sewer.”

"Yes, boy. That's correct. That’s what you want.” He felt his bladder almost drained. “You want to be daddy's special toilet."

In a trance, he babbled on, “Make me your toilet slave, master.” He made whimpering begging noises, pushing his butt up to meet his master’s crotch. It wasn’t just the sensation that drove this fever. Even more: it was the combination of knowing what Mr. McPherson was doing, feeling it at the same time, and then giving him further access to his hole, flooding his colon with his huge pissing cock. The flood of piss overloaded all resistance, physical and mental, enflamed his guts, snaking through this intestines, splashing, pushing, causing him to continue to open up. As the charged piss absorbed into his system, it became a feedback loop that had no end. Deeper and deeper he fell into the ecstasy that ravaged his body. He wallowed in the understanding of how the pain of penetration blossomed into joy. He felt transformed into an insect caught in the most seductive spider web imaginable; a luxurious dream, absorbing him, siphoning his mind from his body, extracting reason from his mind, making him a slave only to this sensation. He gave up his body to this man in a distorted dream, barely aware of this surroundings, pulling on the soft wrist cuffs and grasping at the hard metal chains, spreading his legs wider, bucking up to take more of this god between his legs, this demon who could impale him however deep he wished, split him in two and cast his shell aside if he wanted. He felt blessed that this conqueror chose his hole to plunder. It felt so fucking good, pushing his butt, straining to take in every inch of this coiled python from this monstrous centaur. This was no longer a man fucking him but a beast devouring him.

The man felt the boy's hole fully relent, greedily aching for more. Confined to the limits of the sling, trying to push his body against his to take more of his meat, the man was more than willing to accommodate and leaned all his weight into the boy’s hole. Done pissing he pulled almost all the way out, and then slammed back in. The hole was a slippery, wet mess that got him harder the deeper he probed. He found he was a breath away from having his balls pressed to the boy's smooth tailbone. Observing the boy's face cringe in some discomfort, he poppered the boy again. The boy of course would not resist him. After capping the bottle, he plunged his cock completely to his pubic bone, his wiry bush nestling under the boy's soft, hairless balls. Jesse's eyes bulged, startled, and came instantly. A thick rope of his white jism shot into the boy's face, trailing white cock-snot over an eye and down his cheek. He felt the colon spasm, clutching in desperate orgasms, in the identical rhythm he was fucking the deepest cavern of the boy, feeling his cockhead hitting a soft log in his deepest thrusts. From the boy's rhythmic clutching of his cock while cum spewed over his thin chest, the man climaxed too, releasing an ample amount of seed to knock the boy up. 

Sperm mixed with the urine, a slop so voluminous he could almost hear it slosh inside the boy's guts. In raptured orgasm, he bucked harder, finding sadistic pleasure in the boy's wails. He took the boy's cock and PA in hand and caused the boy tortured exhilaration as he jacked the wet, spent head. They rocked together, unable to stop the flow of passion between them. Sweat poured from his forehead, drenching the boy, running down his flanks. He felt they'd never return to earth. Cum continued to shoot as his hips violently rammed into the boy. Brutal anguish spread across the boy’s face. He begged in ecstatic pain to be fucked, his insides shredded by an engorged phallus, ravaged by the convulsion of orgasm—slave and master conjoined.

But as time and gravity pulled them back to earth, Mr. McPherson’s fiery passion dimmed—not without a final few clenches, a murmur of muted cries—their fervor paled, ground to an eventual halt.

Then, as the rigidity of his cock waned, a warm trickled ran down Mr. McPherson’s leg. Realizing what might happen, he instructed Jesse to hold it in. But with more wetness leaking out, his semi-rigid cock was spat out, and a spasmodic emptying of liquid could no longer be contained. Jesse spewed the content of his bowels all over the floor. On the bedroom’s white porcelain tiles several puddles formed. 

Luckily, thought Mr. McPherson, a new housekeeper was at hand.

A half-conscious Jesse groaned in the sling. First, the man unlocked the boy’s arms, then his legs, helping his down to a sitting position. "Get your bearings, son. Don't get out yet," he advised. Jesse waited at the edge of the sling, his mind coming back to recognizable human form, his eyes focusing. His ass felt incredible and unbelievably satisfied. He realized he was leaking and tried to stop it from further running down his leg. But his ass, stretched so wide, pounded for so long, took issue with closing so soon. It was a fuck he'd never forget; his mind still running over its vague outlines, hardly comprehending it to the point he wasn’t even quite certain where he was. In his reverie, however, he heard Mr. McPherson speaking to him coolly as one would a servant. Finger’s snapped in front of him.

"Jesse,” Mr. McPherson snapped again. “Jesse. On your knees. Time to do your job.” 

Still foggy but with a dawning sense of disbelief, Jesse looked at him to see if he was kidding. Mr. McPherson stood sternly, arms crossed. 

“You’re kidding, right,” he said. “Seriously? You want me to….” His wheedling trailed off. Mr. McPherson's eyes crinkled, an eyebrow raised. “But daddy?” Jesse tested how much sway he had left. Mr. McPherson pointed at Jesse and then a puddle. “But sir? Master?” 

Mr. McPherson unmoved, continued to point.

Jesse slowly crumbled onto the white porcelain tiles, first to his knees, then hands, lastly lips met the floor. With the smallest of slurps, he started. And with the first sip he realized why Mr. McPherson was that successful shark: that he, Jesse, like so many others, should have studied the contract more closely; that it wasn’t about some pitiful stipend, or room and board offered by this wealthy man, but about property, about the transfer of ownership. A person could be bought in many ways; his price was chump change. Downing the first swallow of piss and cum—one last glance up at Mr. McPherson’s brooding ocean-blue eyes—he got to work in earnest, slurping and licking up the mess that moments before had occupied his body.

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