Writer's note: This story contains dominance, submission, sadism, spanking, and humiliation in public places. Just a heads up in case that is not your cup of tea.
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Epilogue:
It was nearing four in the morning when I returned to the Royal Elephant. I was still too wired to sleep, so I went and sat out on the patio. The very place I had made Prasang stand naked and blindfolded while stirring my mai tai with his big, fat cock.
It had only just happened that afternoon, but it felt like an eternity ago now.
The dark courtyard was mostly deserted save for a few all-night partiers straggling back.
A text message dinged on my phone. "I eagerly await your return, master. My hole is lubed and ready to be filled with your cock."
This was the third message Scott had sent me in the last hour.
I began to text back, then changed my mind.
Instead, I went and accessed the 24/7 webcam to see what he was up to.
From where the camera was positioned just above the door, I could see our living room in its entirety.
Scott had kept it pristinely ordered. The sofa, the bookshelf, the ficus by the glass balcony doors. Everything looked clean and freshly tidied, as was, of course, his responsibility as my slave.
His dog dish was positioned right next to my recliner, just as I liked it.
At the end of the day, I would have my dinner there on a tray while watching TV. I could hang my arm over the side and caress Scott's smooth back as he ate alongside me. Man's best friend.
If he had been a very good boy, I would feed him bits of morsels from my own plate, which he would eat up gratefully, licking my fingers clean.
Scott was there now. His white, naked body stood out against the ornate Persian rug splayed in the middle of the living room. He was crouched down on all fours as if it were about to fly away with him on it.
It was on this rug that he had been sleeping and basically doing everything else since I had gone because I was not there to give him direct permission to use the furniture.
I zoomed in on him. He was eerily still as he had been in that string of videos he sent demonstrating his complete and utter supplication to me.
For a minute, I feared he was pulling this stunt once again, though he didn't have the leather hood on this time.
Was he just going to do this all the time now, day in and day out? Set himself down amongst my possessions and wait to be used like the chair or the TV just on the remote chance I might check in on him?
The idea was both concerning and, well...hot. My most loyal and obedient Scott.
But then I noticed he had his laptop in front of him just inches from the foot of my chair. He was looking at some website while resting on his elbows with his naked ass in the air.
He had apparently been fixated on some detail, which was why he was sitting so still, but then his attention broke and toned buns began to sway back and forth.
I unmuted the volume. "Free Falling" by Tom Petty blasted from my phone.
I smiled.
Had I been a little bit more observant, I would have noticed the light glowing on Scott's vintage record player on its cabinet against the wall. I would have seen the vinyl LP atop its platter with a sheen that indicated motion.
The record stand with all its LPs was Scott's very small part of the room with old albums by Queen and Neil Young taped to the wall above.
As I got to know him better, record collecting had proven to be Scott's most enduring passion outside of being my naked slave.
He was one of these musical purists who swore songs just didn't sound right on any other form of media.
Two years before, Scott had put all his possessions into storage and we moved into a two-bedroom apartment together.
We had converted the second bedroom into the dungym with a combination of workout and bondage equipment.
I had soundproofed the door and single window as the spankings could get loud and might cause concern amongst the other tenants.
Scott was already a minimalist before we met. A man of few needs, he had put his small number of possessions into storage.
The deal had been complete and utter obedience to me in exchange for free rent and owning nothing save for clothing.
This agreement had loosened with time as it almost had to. Scott and I were both doing pretty well financially and now shared the cost of rent.
All the same, we both felt that having too many of his own things around would decrease my sense of ownership over him.
But I allowed him the one thing he genuinely could not seem to live without: his record player and collection.
I was glad to see him indulging himself a little. Apart from the music, he was so dedicated to following my rules that he wouldn't so much as use my recliner as an unofficial desk for his laptop.
I closed the surveillance app, then pressed the phone icon on my chat.
He answered in seconds. "Hello, master!" He exclaimed. His big, happy face filling the screen. He picked up the tiny remote for the record player and silenced it.
He then got up on all fours and lowered his eyes. "I'm...I'm very pleased to see you again, master," his voice sounded lower and more masculine than it used to, an implication of the increased testosterone due to frequent weight lifting.
"My slave cock is hard in your very presence. Please, use my body however you wish."
I was hard immediately. I could not imagine a day when hearing him say that would not be music to my ears.
"Hello, Scott." We were face to face for the first time since I left for Thailand. I had nearly forgotten what a radiant shade of blue his eyes were.
His hair was stylishly short and I noticed more gray in it then before, giving the brown a wintry hue. He was fast on his way to becoming a silver fox, it seemed.
The hair, eyes and creamy, light skin made him look like water and ice in contrast to Prasang's fire and heat.
"It's nice to see you again. Did you miss me?" As if I didn't already know what the answer was.
He looked up. "Oh yes, of course, master! I await your return every second! My body waits for your return!"
His eyes were so big, his face so purely, boyishly joyful I had to suppress a laugh.
"You look just like a happy little puppy," I said.
Scott wiggled his bare buns back and forth and stuck his tongue out. "Yipe! Yipe!"
Panting like a doggy, he did a three-hundred-and-sixty degree turn on his hands and knees, giving me views of his beautifully muscled chest and stomach.
He wiggled his big, tight, baseball player buns in the camera. I got a flash of bubble gum pink between them, like the blush inside of the coil of a seashell.
