The Prize – Nathan James, Legrand Wolf
When Nathan and Master Legrand arrived, the boy assumed that the two would start work almost immediately. How could he not? Master Legrand had a lot of fun testing the merchandise. And he’d kept the gay gay slave scantily dressed in his black jockstrap and tiny bow tie, marching him out of the limo and down the aisles in near-nude.
Nathan was an object of desire, filled with yearning, and when they finally arrived at the extravaganza of Legrand’s golden room, he assumed his purpose—to be played by his Master—would be unleashed.
But that’s not what happened. At least, not right away.
There were no toys, no restrictions, no other men. There was only the Master and the boy—all that mattered. Master Legrand sat on the bed, framed by a ghostly painting of deer shrouded in mist. He instructed Nathan to sit on his knees on the floor and wait.
When the Master finally waved at the boy, it felt like an eternity had passed. He was so obsessed with his new owner’s orders that he hardly knew he was in the middle of training. His night of passion had already begun, but what he didn’t understand was that before pleasure came obedience.
Nathan crept across the floor eagerly towards his Master’s grasp, and looked at the older man with the kind of wet-eyed innocence one rarely finds in this world, let alone shopping. Master Legrand kneaded his butt, firmly gripped the muscles in his flank—muscles he knew he would eventually wear out. Nathan had already become an excellent investment, and he had just started sucking the end of Master’s cock through his suit pants.
Master Legrand ordered the boy to perform various acts of worship as he slowly stripped off his attire. The boy’s senses were dizzy from focusing back and forth on the bulge, the lips and Master Legrand’s grip.
He was taken to the bed and placed on his hands and knees on top of the golden bedspread. Master Legrand took the opportunity to explore the boy’s body, fingering him in preparation for what was to come. The boy moaned in agony and ecstasy as one. Then two fingers slipped. He yelled wordlessly, the kind of sigh that only comes from the submission test.
Satisfied with how wide the slave boy was able to stretch – and the pitch his screams reached – Master Legrand picked up the boy and used him forcefully with his huge tool.
The boy in the bow tie found himself in a whirlwind of positions, bouncing off Legrand’s giant cock, curled into a ball and swayed by the force of his master’s hips.
His eyes rolled back in his head. And at some point, amidst the pounding of his prostate and the screams of his throat, the boy simply stopped thinking. All he could feel or understand was the impossible size difference between him and his owner, and the next position he needed to assume. Procreation was all that mattered, and it mattered without words…
