The Love of My Life

Warning: This Story is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.

He wasn't perfect, my Timothy. He didn't have long hair or the piercings that I so love on a guy. And, no, he obviously isn't an emo god. But I love him all the same. He was my first slave, the first to come to me. Of course, he's not the only one of my slaves now. Over the years I've gathered quite a few slaves. All boys, all pale-skinned, all black-haired, save for Frost, all with an assortment of piercings and/or tattoos, all bisexuals. And most definitely ALL mine. All gorgeous and completely at ease with their adoration of moi, their Mistress.

There is Matthew. With his hazel eyes, emo-styled black hair, size 5/8" plugs in his ears, his plump, pouting lips pierced twice on his bottom lip, his belly button (completly adorable on an emo-vegan guy like my Matthew, by the way) and the final two located low on his abdomen, high on his hips that I gave him a year ago. At 5ft, 7 in., he towered over me. Though I may be his Mistress, I absolutly loved it when he, or any of the others, for that mattee looked down at me with his lust-filled, needful, pleading eyes. Matthew came to me about seven months after Timothy officially became mine.

I am their Mistress but all of my boys hold a special place in my heart. And though we do act as a Mistress with her harem of slaves, we spend equal amounts of time as a women surrounded by men who love her and each other. But I digress.

Third to join my ranks was Frost of the white mohawk. If I let myself, I could get lost in his green eyes. You could see his soul in his eyes, which was an interesting concept when talking about a man who had served two tours in Iraq. He also came to me with his nipples pierced, a military tattoo and one tattoo that is decidedly not military. Elaborately tattooed across his shoulder blades is the word "slave". He told me that it was ordered done by his ex-Master, who then enlisted him in the military. Frost does have some interesting tales to tell of what some of his fellow soldiers did to him due to the tattoo. The best time, I have to admit, was when I walked into my apartment to see Frost on his knees, head and shoulders on the floor before him, hands holding his cheeks apart, begging all my guys sitting on the couch in facing him to use him, hard. It was a gorgeous sight to behold. At the time, I had four slaves, not including him. They were all sitting there, mouths slightly open, breathing ragged, each holding the hand of the other as to not touch their own cocks, per my orders. It also appeared as if someone had given each one of them a blowjob as they were all wet and glistening, leaking pre-cum. There was no telling if they had cum or not. They were all hard and ready. As I looked the boys on the couch over, I heard a moan from Frost at the same time Zackery threw his head back. I turned to see what Frost had done to cause him to moan like that and saw that he was forcing a hot pink butt plug in his tight little ass. Desire tore through me as I strutted over to him, placed my booted heal over his hand and the base of the plug and roughly shoved the rest in. He was crying out in complete ecstasy even as I ripped him open. He was shuddering and........Forgive me. I think I have gotten a bit carried away. I didn't mean to go into an almost play-by-play of that night. Back to my boys.

Evan was an accidental discovery. As a childhood friend of Matthew's, he came over to the apartment a good many times. Out of respect for Matthew's wishes, when Evan came over, we would all drop the Mistress/slave thing. Matthew wanted Evan. We all could tell, and once he confessed to us his affection for him, Timothy made it happen. One night, Evan had too much to drink, thanks to my little boy toy continuing to fill his glass, and Evan ended up bunking with Matthew. Bunking naked with Matthew. As he always fantasized, he woke him with a morning blowjob and a finger probing against his "virgin" ass. One thing lead to another and much to Matthew's surprise, I let them date. Three months later, I ordered him to tell Evan the truth about who he was, our relationship and his preferred lifestyle. Much to our surprise, the next day, he came to the apartment with a man named Daniel.

Daniel was Evan's Master. We sent the boys to go play amongst themselves. We talked. I asked if he would consider passing ownership of Evan to me. He admitted to me that he had acquired far too many to house any more. He was worried for what would happen once he became mine. I would then be responsible for five people, myself included. Once he learned that I was the proud owner of Guilty Pleasures and the only sex shop on town, Cerulean Sins, he brought out the papers and he signed over all rights to Evan to me. Don't get me wrong. He's not literally a possession, but in our world, to be safe, the slaves sign consent forms and ownership papers, for legal reasons and so that other Masters/Mistresses could not claim someone else's slaves.

So, Evan moved into Matthew's room. They shared a bed, the shower, but they were not allowed full sex for nearly a year. I enjoyed their frustration and how well they tag teamed me when it was their night with me.

It was one new apartment and two years after Evan before I acquired my other three slaves, Zackery, Eero, and Ash.

Zackery had been the underage junky that lived in our back alley. We only learned of his age when he confronted me and the boys on our way out one night. Somehow he found out that I was the Belle Morte, the owner of Guilty Pleasures and Cerulean Sins. For safeties measure, we exited out of our building through the back alley. We were all dressed in our leather and metal finery when he came stumbling up to me. He stuttered, trembled and quaked in his metaphorical boots. He begged me to hire him as a dancer at the club. Now, this boy had been living in the alley for a few months now, but I never got a good look at him until now. If I had, I may have helped him sooner. Vaguely interesting in his request, I gave him a close look over, walking a slow circle around him, looking him up and down while Matthew giggled quietly at the wasted shell of the person before us. Timothy watched me, trying to gauge my reaction. Zackery's hair was a matted mess, his arms had puncture wounds and scars from years of using and abuse, he was barely clothed and he stank of some of the world's worst unmentionable things. You could smell the fear just roiling off his body. Each soft step of my boots made him jump, he was wringing his hands together so hard, I feared he would rub his skin raw and his eyes were dilated and bloodshot. I stopped in front of him and just stared. After a few moments, he looked down at me, hiding behind his hair, eyes a little watery, full of sorrow. I raised his head up straight with my thumb and forefinger on his chin. When I softly told him that I couldn't have a junky working in my club a single tear ran down his cheek and he dropped to his knees before me and cried and rocked back and forth. I thought as I stared down at him, seemingly unmoved. Matthew had long since stopped giggling. I snapped once and Timothy, well trained that he is, automatically stepped up behind my left shoulder. I quietly instructed him to take the boy upstairs, clean him up and then arrange for him to get the best rehab money can buy, to tell him that I might still have a job for him once he got himself cleaned up. The two of the walked up and we went to the car. Six months later, the familiar face of my once ex-boyfriend Zackery appeared at our apartment door, accompanied by those of Eero, Zackery's rehab boyfriend and their occasional lover and rehab buddy, Ash.

Eero was the only one who got hired to work in Guilty Pleasures. He is a gorgeous specimen of male perfection. He is built, and has a Jacob's Ladder. I highly recommend to every girl out there that you fuck a guy with a Jacob's Ladder. It is a-fucking-mazing. And in his costumes, all the women and men can tell that he has it and it has made him quite a lot of money. Or, it would if he ever saw any of the money.

Zackery and Ash I put to work in Cerulean Sins, behind the counter and in the dressing rooms. Well, for Ash at least Zackery, as punishment for breaking my heart years ago, is only allowed to work the till and he hardly ever receives attention from me.

Ash has long black hair, hair halfway down his back and genuinely black eyes, extremely pale skin and the largest cock and most skilled tongue of all my men. The tip of his large cock is pierced, as well as his belly button and left eyebrow. Tattooed on his cock is my name, because his cock will always be mine.

They are all mine. They will always be mine. Unless they one day decide otherwise. In that case, I will release them. Forever. If they ever choose to leave me, they can never return. Ever. They only have one chance. And that is why they will most likely always be with me.

Even though I love them all and each one of them resides in their own special dark place in my heart, Timothy is my favorite. He is the one that is bound and gagged on the bed next to me as I write this, teasing him with random caresses from my black cashmere robe, the occasional touch of my foot on his calf, keeping us both primed and ready.

I will never forget the day when he submitted to me completely. The feeling of power and pride was like an adrenaline rush. It was the most incredible thing I have ever felt emotionally. The knowledge of the power I had was daunting but that only excited me more. Timothy and I have been lying in this bed naked for the past two hours now. I'm really horny and hot and wet. I am going to fuck his brains out now. I am going to whip him as I do it. I am going to make him bleed. I am going to take out my emotional confusion on his flesh. And when I am sated, I will roll in the blood on his chest, lick it up and covered in blood, I am going to ask my slave, my Timothy, to become my husband.