Mercy (ManxBoy)

53: ℓιттℓє ωнιρ

Because I'd walked out of the house with a bare wall to go to work, and came back to find my beautiful slave kneeling at the door naked, his hands clasped behind his back, and his cheeks red as fire. He was shyly looking up at me, his teeth biting into his beautiful, full bottom lip. I hadn't really noticed it at first, the lust from his obvious submission had overclouded my judgment. 

But, I'd looked up to see if he'd cleaned up, and then I noticed. Zaire had a picture from every single one of our memories. 

The first one was our first date where I'd collared him. He was smiling, his cheeks just as red as they had been the day I came home to find the wall. The last one was of our entire little group--Zaire, Zexion, Liam, Thomas, Slater, Flynn and I. Zaire was looking happily up at me, his face one of utter love and adoration. 

It was in order from day one to now. And it made me so damn... proud? Is that even the word for that? I'd never felt it before. Especially not about a slave. 

But Zaire wasn't merely my slave anymore.

I'd had plenty of slaves in the past--for one night, or for months at a time. None of them was like Zaire. I didn't care for them like I do him. I never worried about pushing them too far. I merely did what I wanted, and got off. I never worried about what they needed much either. I never had a displeased lover, but with Zaire... I wasn't trying to please myself, but him.

As a master, I'm not sure if that's a good thing. I hadn't ever done anything like this. I wasn't a loving man before I met Zaire. I'd never hurt a boy like his old master had because I'd been trained. I knew where to hit, where not to hit, where to hit how hard, and how hard was too hard. I hated that, because it made me feel just as shitty as his fucking ex--and trust me if I ever caught sight of him, I'd kick his pathetic ass. I hate the fact that my slave feels ashamed of the lashes on his back. 

I knew why, though. He believes they are times he failed his master... but in reality, each and everyone shows a time his master had failed him.

In a Master slave relationship, there are boundaries that should never be skirted, let alone crossed. A slave has no options in the relationship if the Master doesn't give them the options. Hell, slaves can't even leave a Master without permission. So, in return for their complete and total submission, a master is supposed to take care of them so that they aren't injured in any way. 

Mentally, slaves are like brilliant children, able to think about amazing things, but unable to sort them out without their Master. Slaves need a Masters touch, the pain that was promised something that could only keep them grounded. 

Zaire, he's not just a brilliant child. I'd never seen him behave as one. He'd never pushed boundaries with me or tried to see how far he could push me before I snapped. Zaire was a special type of masochist. For him, the pain was only one part of the release. The other part was the affection. 

I blinked, opening my eyes to see Zaire kneeling in front of me on the floor in front of the couch. I looked down into his beautiful blue eyes, and I was lost in a sea of nothing but Zaire. 

That's my release. 

Seeing my beautiful little boy kneeling in front of me, completely naked, save for my collar. Oh yes, that's where he belongs. And, if I have anything to do with it, that's where he'll belong until we're both buried six foot under. 

"Master, I've cleaned up." Zaire's soft, honey like voice cascaded over my brain. It warmed my insides, just hearing that. 

"Good boy, did you get everything done?" Zaire giggled softly and nodded. I reached down and picked him up under his arms, pulling him up onto my lap. He straddled my waist, his deliciously cute cock rubbing between our bodies.