I lifted his chin so that his streaming eyes met mine.
“I want you to repeat after me. ‘I am a good boyfriend and my master is proud of me.'”
Prasang looked at me for a second before his face fell and he broke down again. He shook his head back and forth like a dog in a muzzle. “No, no, master, no!”
“Stop crying,” I said with more authority in my voice.
Prasang did his level best to compose himself, sucking the mucous back up into his nose.
“That’s good,” I said, cupping my hand under his jaw more firmly. “Now look me in the eye and say what I told you to say.”
Prasang swallowed his grief down in one hard gulp and began. “I-I’m a good boyfriend…and my master is proud of me,” he sniffled.
There was no conviction in his voice. “Say it two more times and I want you to say it so you believe it.”
Prasang recited the words twice more as I told him to. When he finished the second time, a smile played at the edges of his mouth and it was clear he felt a little better.
“Now I want you to say this,” keeping one hand under his chin, I reached down and found his spread, suspended hole. He grunted and flinched in surprise as I started rubbing two fingers over this most intimate part of his body. “‘I don’t need to worry because my master is going to help me get hard and come.’ Repeat that.”
The muscle clenched and unclenched under my caress. He drew in his breath and heaved again, though this time there was something underneath the sorrow. A moan.
His limp cock twitched in Martin’s hand.
“I don’t need to worry because… because my master is going to help me get hard and come…”
“That’s it, good boy, say it again, Prasang.”
Before long he was taking in deep, slow breaths. His cock was growing bigger as Martin stroked. I watched his eyes, satisfied when they began to glaze over with pleasure.
Prasang parted his lips and wetted them with the blade of his light pink tongue. Whenever a boy does that, it’s a sign he’s enjoying what he’s feeling. He breathed in and sighed out the words, “I don’t need to worry because my master is going to help me get hard and come.”
“Good boy, that’s my boy,” I brushed my lips against his ear as I said it. I now began a light circular motion on the smoother than smooth skin of his hole.
At the end of the day, men and boys are all the same. If you want to train one to be your sex slave, you have to understand how to manipulate his body, through pleasure as well as through pain.
If I have learned anything from the boys I’ve trained, whether gay or straight, it’s that their holes are the infallible gateway to genuine arousal.
Prasang moaned and purred gently. I increased the circular motion around his opening, tickling lightly now and then with the tip of my finger.
I felt his anal muscles loosen beneath me and open like a flower. He was responding to my touch and ready to accept entry.
His cock continued growing, snaking upward in Martin’s grip.
I enveloped him in a kiss. Not a rape kiss a la Martin and Gary. It was deep, but sensual, and Prasang glided his own hot tongue over mine.
At the same time, my finger entered his hole. It was still moist from taking my thumb earlier and it slid in easily. He pulsated and clenched around it, though not as a means of resistance. His secret pink mouth was hungry and trying to coax me in further.
Despite his state of discomfort and all the painful stimuli inflicting his body, I was actually succeeding in pushing the right buttons and getting him aroused.
After a little while, I separated myself from him and withdrew my finger. There was a lot of work to be done in order to work him up to the big orgasm I promised his two new masters.
“Ready, boy?” I said, caressing his face. “Ready to come again big and hard?”
The tears had dried now, but he still looked fearful of the task that lay ahead. “I-I think so, sir…”
“Good!” I gave his face a light slap. “OOF,” he said, more in surprise than pain.
“Let’s get to it then!”
As Martin and Gary continued to rove his body and play with his cock, I went to my bag and found the bottle of oil.
I sat myself down in the sand directly behind Prasang, my nose inches from his muscular, tight bubble butt.
I watched it thrust and struggle, momentarily hypnotized. Prasang’s quest to find a comfortable position for his stinging red buns was endless and completely futile, though from where I was sitting it was unbelievably erotic and getting me rock hard.
I pressed my face against one bun and then the other to test their warmth. His spanked flesh was so hot I nearly broke a sweat being close to it.
“Relax now, Prasang,” I said, “I need to rim you to get you hard.”
I slid my thumbs in between the cheeks and parted, exposing his hole. It quivered and winked at me as though in recognition and pleaded for more attention.
I drew in my breath and pressed my hot, wet tongue to up against it. “OH…OHHHH” Prasang moaned.
I licked and sucked greedily. I flicked my tongue rapidly back and forth like a cat drinking milk.
I did a combination of all three movements: Licking, sucking, and flicking with my tongue. When I felt him open himself up to me again, I clasped both his legs and pushed my face deeper in.
I locked myself to his hole like it was the mouth of my most intimate lover. I could have gone on for hours that way.
“UUUUH…OH…OOH, man rusuk di mak!” Went Prasang, slipping into his native language.
It wasn’t easy, but at last I pulled away to inspect my handiwork. His hole had gotten big and spongy under my skillful attention.
I took the bottle of oil and drizzled it over my index finger until it was slick and shiny. After a little bit more tickling and teasing of the engorged flesh, I slid my finger inside of him.
Prasang let out an almost comical moan of gratitude as I fed him the very thing I had gotten him hungry for. There was no resistance whatsoever as I slid in all the way up to the knuckle.
Balanced between the chairs, Prasang moved up and down with my finger as it pressed against his prostate.
When I had my finger up him as far as it would go, I went in for the coup de gras. I got up on my knees and slid the blade of my tongue up and down the open crack of his ass. I licked the engorged pink flesh around his hole even as it took in my finger.
“OH…OOOOOHH!” Prasang moaned, overwhelmed by the feeling, “Ai, xo thirak chi!”
“How’s he looking up there, fellas?” I asked Martin and Gary.
They had been in charge of his cock this whole time. Their fingers were interlaced, sliding up and down his shaft as a single entity.
Sadly, despite my finger and tongue skills, Gary was unimpressed.
“You’ve made a valiant effort, sure enough, Jim, but I’m afraid our young friend here remains at half mast. Just too tired, I reckon.”
I leaned over and observed the situation myself. Indeed, Prasang’s dick was big and probably nearly there, but it had a rubbery quality about it, not stiff like it should have been.
There was, of course, a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. Prasang’s cock was sore and spent. Even at nearly full arousal, you could see it was inflamed with painful red streaks running through the shaft.