The Only Way This Ends, Part 3
#3 of The Only Way This Ends
Perhaps it wasn't entirely coincidence that the ram just so happened to have never felt more pent up in his life at the same precise time that his maned master had lost all interest in him sexually.
Danny had already been experiencing a profound case of blue balls and the current situation in the basement just exacerbated everything by a factor of ten. It was especially frustrating because by now the slave knew what a horny beast his master was. The man was having sex, Danny was sure of it. The lion was probably meeting up with his new boy toy each and every day, with the kangaroo having no clue how close he was to having his freedom of choice strippeed from him forever.
Which was bad news not only in the humanitarian sense, but it also spelled out certain doom for the ram personally. The slave guessed that the only reason he hadn't yet starred in a private snuff show for his master was that the lion didn't want to risk needing to drop a load and having both the kangaroo and his former slave not being available. But it was obvious to Danny that he was living on borrowed time.
Once upon a time, his master hadn't been able to keep his hands of his recently acquired slave. The lion had been addicted to him. His scent. Taste. Holes. Submission. You name it. The master couldn't get enough of it. The teenage boy had gone from being a near virgin to a sexual veteran in just a few months time.
Largely because the man denied himself nothing. If he wanted to spank the ram's naked ass until the boy was both sobbing and stiffly erect, there was nothing Danny could do to stop him. Down in the basement, sex and punishment blended together until they were nearly indistinguishable. Paddles, straps, gags, hoods, lube, clamps, aphrodisiacs, forced exercise, spankings, endless sexual positions. The ram served and service his dominant master until the words, 'Yes' and 'Master' combined to form the most common phrase in his vocabulary.
Because his master didn't ask. He commanded, ordered, and instructed. Never was Danny asked, 'Would you like to try out some deep throat training today?'. There was never any question. The command came as, 'Get the arm straps and the ring gag. I'm gonna wear that throat of yours out."
Over time, the ram became more and more used to it, gradually inured to the hardships of his slavery. Cumming so infrequently even as he was having sex constantly was one of the hardest realities for Danny to come to accept. But the lion had plenty of time to color the boy's expectations and sure enough, within a few years even this harsh aspect of his life came to be accepted as humdrum and routine.
Not that he still didn't beg like a slut during the occasional edging session. Typically his master wasn't too interested in playing with the youth's downstairs tackle, but the lion made an exception for edging. It was a labor of love for him, using his hands to work the ram's cock for untold hours.
Sometimes Danny was permitted to beg for relief. Others he was hooded and gagged. His body might be securely strapped down to a table or he might be sitting in his master's lap, the lion's own manhood pressed firmly between his cheeks. What his master chose to say to the slave varied as well. The lion might coo warmly at his property, telling the youth how good he was doing and how well he was holding up as the edging dragged into its eighth, nine, or tenth hour. Or he might verbally berate the ram, telling him what a horny slut he was and threatening him with immediate castration should he dare to spew any of his disgusting slave goo. And then there were the times that the lion was eerily silent, focusing all of his attention of the simple of act of driving the young boy out of his mind with desperate need.
But no matter how much the edging differed session to session, one thing never changed. Not once did an edging session ever conclude with Danny actually climaxing. No matter how arduous of a trial it was or how long it lasted. His master's policy on this point was clear.
'Squirting isn't something a slave earns, slut. It's a gift that a benevolent master bestows upon an undeserving slave whenever the mood strikes him. To believe otherwise is to incorrectly think that the slave has some form of power over the master. My horny toy... know that I shall work hard to dispel you of that notion. Nothing you do will ever influence how often those pathetic balls of yours find relief. Good behavior... bad behavior. It matters not. I will train you to behave perfectly at all times, but despite this nothing you do will serve to alleviate the ache in your sack. Do you understand me, small one? Now, lean your naked ass over my lap. Perhaps a spanking will help my words sink.'
Having spent nearly a decade in the man's private dungeon, Danny could testify that the man was not exaggerating. When and why the man decided to reward him with the rare but spectacular orgasm followed no rhyme or reason as far as the slave could tell. Once the man had even spanked his bare bottom until the ram was bawling, only to flip him over and firmly jerk him off until his tear streaked face was contorted in climatic pleasure.
What the slave had no way of knowing was that the lion had planned out every orgasm his slave would have a whole year in advance. This was the only way the man could be completely confident that it would be impossible for the cute boy to manipulate him. The master scattered them out as randomly as possible, sometimes placing as many as three orgasms in a single week, while also making sure to include 'dry spells' of different lengths. A week here... two weeks there... and zero orgasms for the entire month of November. Danny's birthday just so happened to be mid November, and this was the lion's private way of celebrating.
But as of this week, that calendar had been entirely discarded. The lion had come to a decision and he meant to stick with it. For as long as he owned the slave, the ram's cock would be purely decorative at best. At worst, it was a tool to punish and discipline. If the boy was going to be retired, then the lion wanted his last memories of his property to be filled with the ram being properly obedient, perfectly respectful, and impeccably behaved. Somehow it would tarnish the ram's legacy if there was a chance that he might do these things only with the expectation of being rewarded with a final squirt. Better to know beyond a shadow of a doubt, even if that meant that he'd have one randy slave on his hands during these final days.
And if the slave failed to live up to his high expectations? Well then the toy's retirement would have to be even harsher than the one he'd already planned.
Only three days into his mandated porn marathon and Danny was ready to crawl up the walls. The basement echoed with the lewd sounds of sucking, fucking, licking, panting... an entire orchestra of endless males satisfying an itch he had long been denied scratching.
With little else to focus on, time and time again the ram found his eyes drawn towards the massive HD wall display. The fidelity of the images was astounding. The slave could make out the beads of sweat on the humping men's fur. Visually trace each vein that ran down their shafts. See the fuck-lust in each of the men's eyes. Danny ran both hands over his perfectly flat crotch before rubbing the pads of his fingers against the portal disc.
There was something ironic about being told his cumming days were over. His master no longer desired him sexually and somehow the man had made it his problem. Every time the lion pumped a load in that naive kangaroo was another nail in the ram's coffin. Sooner or later, whatever sense of nostalgia that was staying his master's hand would pass. And then that, as they say, would be that.
He'd be snuffed (probably in some spectacularly erotic, yet extremely painful way Danny supposed), the lion would bag and tag a new slave, and the cycle would repeat. Only the ram would be dead and the kangaroo would wish he was. At least for the first couple of years. That's about how long it took Danny to make his peace with it. More or less.
And there was nothing the slave could do about it. Except sit on his floor pillow and watch as one wolf turned his brother into his bitch over the course of the broadcast. It had started with a dick measuring contest and, pissed that his older brother had beaten him by over two full inches, the younger decided to teach him that respect wasn't something you were born with -- it was something you took.
Initially the older brother had laughed at the other wolf's 'bad joke'. He wasn't laughing anymore. And those two extra inches sure weren't doing him any good now that older sibling had returned from the doctor. The alpha brother had paid the facility to increase the sensitivity of his long, thick, studly cock to such ludicrously high levels that even feather light touches were too intense to handle. The male was forced to break up with his longtime girlfriend, as even her gentle sucking (briefly depicted on screen) was unbearable for more than a few, painfully blissful moments.
Even underwear and pants became a burden the older wolf could hardly stand. He couldn't even leave the house for more than an hour or two a day. And so the younger supported them both while steadily pushing his perpetually erect sibling into the role of housewife. First underwear was done away with, then pants, then finally shirts were outlawed. With no clothes, no way to earn money, and no way to pay for a phone, the wolf became a prisoner in his own home. And whenever he even tried to grow a spine and confront his younger brother, the alpha would simply grin before gripping the other wolf's always hard cock.
"Back talking means a handjob,"' the younger male berated. "You know the rules."
Too overwhelmed to fight back and too cowed to argue, the wolf howled like a wounded animal as his smaller cocked brother brought him to a gushing, wonderful, agonizing climax.
"Lick that mess up, bitch. I need to get back to work. After all, one of us needs to make money. Freeloader. Oh, and I expect dinner at seven. But I'll be home at six thirty. I want you in bed, tail up when I come through that door."
Danny assumed the show would cut off then, since it struck him as a logical conclusion point. But sure enough, they skipped ahead and showed the whole bedroom scene with the older wolf losing his anal virginity to his brother.
The ram didn't think he could feel any more chastised until they engaged in some post sex cuddling. Witnessing them gift each other with the affection that he'd never get experience again drove home how much he stood to lose.
If and when the lion snuffed him, that would be it for his story. Whatever life experiences he missed out on, he'd never have the chance to make up for. The ram would die without being rimmed. Without cuddling with another person during a cold night. Without being kissed by a lover again. The lion would take all that away from him and more. So much more.
He never graduated college. Never held down a real job. Never gave a toast at someone's wedding. Never had to go through a heart-wrenching break-up. Hell, he'd never even got into a petty argument about who got to top that night. His master had stolen all of that from him.
And what had he gotten in return? A godawful case of blue balls.
The worst part is, Danny knew exactly what he was going to say to his master when he next saw him.
'Yes, Master'.
'No, Master'.
'May I pleasure you, Master?'
But the next thought made the slave feel ever lower. An undeniable part of him was desperately hoping the terrifying beautiful man would say yes. The bitter truth was, the defeated part of the ram wanted everything to go back to the way they were before.
The 'good days' when his master wasn't planning to murder him. When all it took to make the man happy was an uncomfortably aggressive blowjob and a slave who would ride his cock no matter how much the boy's thighs burned.
When the ram realized that he would literally weep with joy if his master told him that he had decided to keep the slave for ten more years, he did cry. But these weren't tears of joy. In that moment, Danny hated himself. He hated himself for loving his master.
Miles away in a cheap hotel room, a kangaroo snuggled up closely to his lover. At just nineteen years of age, Kevin wasn't really sure what love felt like, but he thought that this might be it.
Sure, his ass ached from the savage pounding the bodybuilding lion had just given him, but the pain was worth it. Silently he was pleased that he could do this for the man. That he could bravely suffer the discomfort to bring the older, successful man pleasure.
Caught up in the moment, hormones racing through his veins, Kevin asked the question that countless other teenagers have asked throughout the years.
"Hey, silly butt... do you love me?"
Laying on his back, eyes half closed as he stared at the slowly turning ceiling fan in the darkened room, the lion frowned.
"Love? What kind of question is that? Didn't I just get done fucking a batch up your arse?"
Giggling at the stud's response before laying his head down the lion's chest to listen to his heartbeat, the kangaroo pressed on with, "Is that a yeeessss?"
"Feel free to take that anyway you like. I don't like word games, boy"
Putting on his best insincere pouty face, Kevin jokingly whined, "Awwww, you're no fun."
The lion grunted.
"That's not what you were saying a few minutes ago when I was bottomed out down your hole."
Kevin laughed again, less of a giggle this time and more sultry.
"No denying that, stud. Hell, by this point I'm practically a slave for that cock."
Looking down the lion's chest, the kangaroo didn't notice the strange expression come over the man's face.
"...Be careful what you wish for, pretty boy."
Smiling at the new verbal game, Kevin retorted with, "What you going to do, big man? Capture me and make me your own personal boy toy?"
The man started growing firm again, which didn't go unnoticed by his youthful lover.
"Maybe. Maybe not. Bet you'd like it, though. Bet it'd make you real hard, wouldn't it? If I took you down into my dungeon."
Fixated on the feline's fat dick, the kangaroo licked his lips and said, "You bet I would. If I got to play with that every day."
Firmly grabbing the back of the boy's head, the lion used a small portion of his immense strength to guide the youth's head down towards his crotch as he growled, "Slaves don't play with their master's cock, horny slut. They worship it."
Pushing back against the much stronger man's hand, Kevin took a rebellious tone and replied, "And what if I said no? What if I said that didn't want to worship your fat, smelly lion co--"
With a wet squelch, whatever else the boy was planning on saying was cut off as the man's broad cockhead shoved itself past his lips, over his tongue, and towards the back of his throat. Instinctively Kevin brought both hands to resist the single lion paw pressing him down, but it did the youth no good.
"Lesson one. Slaves don't get to say no. Lesson two. Slave's don't get to say no. Lesson three. Slaves don't get to say no. Once you've mastered these three, maybe I'll introduce you to the next set of rules. If you beg me nicely, that is."
Caught off guard, but game for a bit of kinky roleplay, Kevin spent the rest of the night doing exactly what the lion instructed, starting with actually physically gargling the dominant male's cum while the man smiled down from above.
Something about their little game had lit a fire under the brawny cat, and the kangaroo was loving it. Kevin decided that if a bit of master-slave play revved up his lover's engine this much, they'd have to do play this game some more very soon. On this point, the older man was in complete agreement.