The collar clicked shut around Malik’s throat with a sound that settled deep in his bones. It was thick black leather, lined with soft suede, the silver ring at the front already warm from his skin. Master stood in front of him, fully dressed in dark slacks and a crisp shirt while Malik knelt naked on the hardwood, knees spread, hands clasped behind his back. The room was dim, lit only by a single floor lamp that threw long shadows across the walls.
“Eyes down,” Master said, voice low and even. Malik obeyed at once. He felt the weight of the collar more than he felt the cool air on his exposed cock. It was already half-hard, heavy between his thighs, the head darkening as blood rushed south.
Master circled him slowly. A gloved hand traced the line of Malik’s shoulder, then down his spine, pressing between his shoulder blades until his chest touched the floor. The position forced his ass higher, cheeks parted. Cool air brushed his hole. He heard the snap of a cap, then the wet sound of lube being warmed between fingers.
Two thick fingers pushed inside without warning. Malik’s breath hitched but he stayed silent. The stretch burned, then bloomed into heat as Master worked him open with deliberate, unhurried strokes. Every curl of those fingers dragged across his prostate until pre-cum dripped steadily onto the floor.
“You’re already leaking for it,” Master murmured. “Good slave.”
The fingers withdrew. Malik felt empty for only a moment before the blunt head of Master’s cock pressed against him. He was thick, veined, and he took his time sinking in, inch by relentless inch, until his hips met Malik’s ass. The fullness made Malik’s thighs tremble. He focused on breathing through it, on the way the collar shifted against his throat with every small movement.
Master began to fuck him in long, grinding strokes that never quite pulled all the way out. Each thrust shoved Malik forward, the collar tugging lightly at his neck. Sweat gathered along his spine. His cock swung untouched beneath him, dripping, aching. He knew better than to reach for it.
Time blurred. Master used him steadily, sometimes slowing to grind deep and hold there, sometimes speeding up until the slap of skin echoed. When he finally came, it was with a low growl and a flood of heat that filled Malik until it leaked around the shaft still buried inside him.
Master pulled out slowly. Cum trickled down Malik’s balls. He stayed in position, hole twitching, until a hand patted his flank.
“Clean me.”
Malik turned, still on his knees, and took the softening cock into his mouth. He licked and sucked until it was clean, tasting lube and salt and the faint bitterness of his own ass. Only then did Master step back and unclip the leash from the collar.
“Corner. Kneel. Wait.”
Malik crawled to the indicated spot, a padded mat beneath a heavy chain bolted to the wall. He locked the cuff around his ankle himself, then settled back on his heels, hands behind his back again. The chain was long enough for him to reach the water bowl and the small mat where he would sleep, but nothing more. His cock remained hard, untouched, throbbing with every heartbeat.
Master left the room. The door clicked shut. Malik was alone with the collar, the plug Master had pushed into him before leaving, and the steady pulse of need between his legs. He would stay like this for hours. He would stay like this for as long as Master decided.
When the door opened again, Master was naked from the waist down. He sat in the leather chair across from Malik and spread his legs.
“Crawl.”
The chain allowed just enough reach. Malik moved forward until his face was between Master’s thighs. He licked slowly, worshipfully, taking his time the way he had been trained. Master’s hand rested on the back of his head, guiding but not forcing. Every swallow, every press of tongue against the underside, earned a quiet sound of approval that Malik felt all the way down to his caged cock.
Later, Master fucked him again, this time with Malik bent over the arm of the chair, collar chained to a ring in the floor so he could not rise. The angle was brutal. Every thrust punched the air from his lungs. Master reached around and stroked him in time with the fucking until Malik was begging, voice hoarse, to be allowed to come.
Master granted it only after he had filled him again. Malik came with a broken cry, cock pulsing untouched against the leather, cum striping the floor while his hole clenched around the cock still buried deep.
In the quiet afterward, Master unlocked the ankle cuff and led him to the bed. He removed the collar only long enough to wash Malik’s neck, then locked it back on. Malik lay on his side, back against Master’s chest, the heavy arm draped over his waist. The plug remained inside him, keeping Master’s cum where it belonged.
“Tomorrow we start again,” Master said against his ear. “You’re mine.”
Malik closed his eyes, the weight of the collar familiar and right against his throat. He was exactly where he wanted to be.
