Twinkslave 20yo

“Part of me thought it was going to be a collar,” he said, relieved. I smiled, too, but at his simplicity.

“Put it around your neck,” I said, and he did, draping it over his naked shoulders, down over his collarbone, the long edge brushing one of his nipples. I bit my lip; it didn’t hurt—it helped, even—to let him know it had an effect on me, too. “Touch yourself,” I said, and he did, running his hands over his flesh, putting on a little show for me—cheeky boy—before the feeling of me finally allowing him to touch his cock again got to be too much. Before he lost himself in the pleasure and the heat and the ache and splattered his seed onto his hand, before he ate it as I murmured about what a good boy he was in his tie.

The next time I let him cum—it was only two days later, but he said he was desperate for it and needed it “so fucking bad”—he’d called me at home, in the middle of the night. “Okay, I said. I’ll let you cum. But you have to do something for me, don’t you?”

“Anything,” he whined.

“Put on the tie I gave you.”

He whimpered.

The next time he wanted to cum, I didn’t need to tell him; he volunteered—he was so proud of himself!—that he already had it on.

That’s what training is, after all. I go back and forth—“training” sounds so mechanistic, so distant, to describe something so personal, so intimate, so very close to his skin. But there’s no denying that I provide causes, and he evinces effects; there’s no denying that the first time he wore the tie outside of the privacy of his home, the first time he wore it in his day-to-day life and not when he was about to spill himself into his hand or my mouth, he had a clear, conditioned response. It reminded him of all the many times he’d cum when wearing it; the very feel of the thing, the sight of it, the weight—and he’d thought silk couldn’t have weight!—of it around his neck, made him think of himself hard and eager and obedient.

Which is to say that it made him hard, and eager, and obedient.

I made sure it was a nice tie, but not particularly flashy. It doesn’t call attention to itself, although he will get a compliment on it now and then, making his dick surge, making his head light as he thanks them, as he thinks about how they don’t know what it is they’re saying. He knows, though, and that knowledge keeps him unsettled, off-balance, makes him walk around all day with his messenger bag slung over his crotch. He always knows what that tie means, and I do, too.That’s the tie he wears when he’s wanton. That’s the tie he wears when he cums. That’s the tie he wears when he’s mine.

The Home of Filthy Sneakers, Socks, and Feet.

If daddy invites you to his place you should be very thankful.

Bring something to eat and blow his cock while he enjoys the food.

*english below* Bald schon wird mein Master mich Zwangspiercen lassen. Das bedeutet, dass ich zunächst einen Prinz-Albert-Piercing erhalte, bevor dann weitere Modifikationen durchgeführt werden. Mit (erneuten) Eintritt in seinen Besitz, habe ich ihm alle Rechte für Modifikationen an mir zugesprochen. Sein erster Mod wird also nun ein Piercing durch die Eichel meines  (eigentlich ja seines) beschnittenen Penis sein (zuvor lies er mich vor einigen Jahren Zwangsbeschneiden). Der neue Piercing soll dann als Sicherung für meinen Peniskäfig benutzt werden, der bald wohl ausgetauscht werden soll, sodass ich 100% sicher keusch gehalten werden kann.

Pentagram chest harness tutorial! A little clarification, I turn around a few times to show different ways to secure the rope to the back (simple loop, simple knot), and when I don’t turn around and have my hands fiddling behind my back, that’s what I’m doing. It took too long to turn around each time I tied it behind my back (also the back was kinda messy and I didn’t want to show that lol)