SMP - Slaves's Meeting Point 🔞

The boy texted his Master that his roommate was fucking a girl. An hour later, the Master showed up unannounced. Alone in the flat, the boy was ordered to find the used condom. The Master emptied it into his mouth and said one word — “Swallow.”
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He slipped quietly out of the truck where the driver had just used him. Naked between the trailers, he tried to put on his shoes. The door opened again. “Get dressed farther away,” the man ordered. The boy obeyed, understanding the driver’s fear of being seen with him.
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“Why am I being punished with the other sub? I did nothing wrong,” the boy asked. The Master, selecting a cane, replied calmly, “Because your mistakes affect each other. You’ll learn faster when discipline is shared.”
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“Why pay $5000 for a slave,” the man asked, “when I can find dozens of subs on any street corner?” The owner replied, “It takes three years to train a proper slave to serve your every need. $5000 barely covers the cost of feeding him.”
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“The only thing I think about is cum,” the sub confessed. The Master smiled. “That’s a good start.”
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AGAIN !
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Hooded and confined, the boy’s head rested in piss inside a transparent toilet tank. A hand worked his cock. “Happy birthday,” the Master whispered. “You’ll stay like this till morning.” He came hard, trembling, and knew it had only just begun.
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Parked on a busy street, the van rocked visibly. Inside, a worker was fucking the submissive boy during his lunch break. “Please, Sir, I’m going to be late, it’s only my second day at the company.” The man sneered, “I’ll take my time. You’ll leave with my load in your ass.”
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The young sub needed feeding. The Master didn’t feel like pissing, so he called his house slave and ordered him to fill the bowl. The sub winced slightly. The house slave whispered, “Don’t worry. It’s the Master’s piss, recycled through me.”
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The man fucked the young slave’s throat for five full minutes before cumming deep into his oesophagus. When he pulled out, the boy looked up, confused, he hadn’t even realized the man had finished inside him. No taste. No warning. Just service.
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The man fucked the young slave’s throat for five full minutes before cumming deep into his oesophagus. When he pulled out, the boy looked up, confused, he hadn’t even realized the man had finished inside him. No taste. No warning. Just service.
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The Master dropped his slave at the farm, thanking the farmer for taking him on short notice. The man locked him in a cangue, behind two others. “No problem,” the farmer said. “$5000 for the month.” The Master handed him the cash. “See, slave? I’m using your bank account wisely.”
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He woke up, body itching, remembering how the farmer and his guests had used him again and again. He reached for his clothes, ready to leave. But the iron collar was chained to the wall. So he lay back down, quietly, and waited for the farmer to wake.
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After five months living together, the Master and the slave found their rhythm. The Master cums, then pisses before work. The slave receives both as daily honor. No words, no orders. Just balance. Each gets what he needs. Symbiosis through use.
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The Master looks at the object and asks, “What is this?” The boy, proud, replies, “I froze some of your piss in a condom, Sir. I fuck myself with it every day.” The Master stays silent impressed by the creativity, stunned by the pathetic devotion.
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The Master looks over the dozens of dildos and says, thoughtful, “It’s been a long journey.” The slave kneeling beside him answers simply, “Yes, Sir.”
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After using the boy to exhaustion, the Master lets him leave. But just before he walks out, the Master stops him. “One last thing,” he says, then pisses on him, soaking his clothes. A final mark. A reminder of who he is, and who he belongs to.
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From the start, the boy was made to watch his Master shit, holding the toilet paper in silence. He knew one day, his tongue would replace it.
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With enough training, the boy understands that when the Master fucks him, he must erase himself. No movement, no will, just a body to be used. He empties himself completely, so the Master can fill him with what truly matters.
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Before giving the boy a permanent mark of ownership, the Master tests different options.
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Back at dawn from his first gangbang in a housing project basement, the boy has nothing left. He collapses under the shower in his studio, water running over his used body, and falls asleep like that, empty, sore, but exactly where he needs to be.
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As part of his arrival protocol, the boy was trained to lick the Master’s leather boots. But now, the boot waits alone by the door. The Master no longer greets him, he’s busy in another room, breaking in a new submissive. The boy still licks, silently.
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Every morning, first thing, the boy plugs his ass.
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The Master plays with the boy’s pussy, still marked by a punishment from days ago.
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A good boy knows that sometimes cocks move from one hole to another without distinction. No questions, no pause. Just service. Just holes.
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The Master loves to torture the boy’s mind by exposing his cock, knowing it triggers an instant need in the boy to suck. No words needed. Just the sight is enough to reduce him to craving, to silence, to be useful and serve.
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It’s been three days since the boy started wearing his chastity cage 24/7. At night, painful erections hit him as he lies down. He can’t stop them. He can’t relieve them. He just learns to endure, because that’s what a caged boy is meant to do.
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The man using the boy was shocked to see his own cock slide out coated in someone else’s cum.
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The boy obeys instantly during the half-hour dog training session. He knows the reward will come after, the Master using his pussy to unload and cum. And the boy will be exactly where he belongs.
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The boy was crushed after sucking the Master, only to see him spill his seed with disdain onto the boy’s hood instead of giving him the honor of swallowing it. In that moment, the boy understood, he hadn’t been good enough to deserve the Master’s sacred cum.

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