Naughty Boy Stories

A writer CONTROLLED

By Zac Loughty

This is a fictional story about adults, for adults only

This story was inspired by a story I found on Metalbond’s site. That story is entitled “House Arrest” written by Parole Officer J. It was posted on July 17, 2020. Thank you Parole Officer J for posting such a hot idea!

I’m 66 years old and recently retired. I’ve kept myself in decent shape. I wouldn’t say I’m muscular, but there isn’t an ounce of fat on me. I regularly take long walks. I’m 5’ 10” and weigh 135 pounds. My hair is gray and balding. I also happen to be gay. I’ve had relationships in the past, but none of them lasted more than a year.

One of my main goals in retirement is to write a novel that’s been swimming around in my head for many years now. I have my characters all fleshed out. I can step into the scene in my dreams. I know the plot and subplots. So what’s stopping me from sitting down and writing my novel?

I like to go to movies, sometimes with friends, sometimes alone. I enjoy going out to eat. I’m interested in the latest museum and art exhibits. I drive to natural areas outside the city to take my long walks. Incredibly, instead of sitting down to write, I always seem to find something else to do.

For some reason, I’ve always been drawn to gay bondage sites on the internet. Seeing guys in bondage always gets my dick hard. I’ve never pursued bondage myself. I would suffer a panic attack if I was ever tied up. I’ve never had any desire to tie a guy up. 

I once had a boyfriend who asked me to handcuff him before we had sex. I just looked at him as if he were totally crazy. Hadn’t he read Gerald’s Game? Hadn’t he considered everything that could go wrong? It just wasn’t safe!

So one day I’m just casually browsing through Metalbond’s site when a title reaches out and grabs me by my balls, “House Arrest.” What? I read through the article and it described having a monitor secured around your ankle. The monitor included GPS tracking. It would periodically report your location to your “parole officer (PO).” 

As I read through the article, blood rushed to my cock. Wow! Why? 

The monitor couldn’t be immersed in water, so swimming or taking baths was out. The monitor couldn’t be removed without cutting it off, which would send a message to your PO! You would also incur a hefty fee for cutting that strap. The wearer was stuck wearing the monitor 24 hours a day 7 days a week! You had to sleep with that damn monitor strapped to your ankle! You couldn’t take it off to run to the store. Everyone would see you wearing a monitor and think you were a criminal. They would most probably believe you got a DUI since wearing a monitor is common in those cases. How embarrassing! You had to ask permission to deviate from your normal schedule in any way. Why was my cock leaking precum?

You and your PO would decide how much “freedom” you had. The article mentioned allowing exercising. Of course, if you worked, your job was an approved GPS location. But as soon as your work was over, you needed to get home pronto. It was like being grounded as an adult! My cock was throbbing.

This would work so perfectly for me! This was how I would stay home and work on my novel! This was the answer!

I immediately researched ankle monitors on the internet. As the article stated, a number of them were quite reasonably priced. I could buy one, attach it to my ankle, subscribe to a monitoring service, and I’d know exactly where I’d been all day. So what? Without a PO, this would be a waste of time and money. I needed someone to lay down the law and enforce it!

I started searching for a dominant on social networking sites. Many were seeking subs between the ages of 18 and 24. Even doms older than me were seeking guys under age 40. They didn’t need to have sex with me, I just wanted them to track my movements.

Finally, I found a 68-year-old. He didn’t list any age restrictions. Incredibly, he even listed “parole officer” as one of his interests. I decided to send him a message and included a photo (clothed, showing my face).

Sir,

I’m 66 years old and recently retired. One of my goals is to write a novel. Unfortunately, I seem to lack the discipline to actually sit down and write it. I would appreciate it if you’d consider taking me on as a parolee to ensure I stay home and work on my novel. No sex of any kind is expected on my part.

Sincerely,

Bill Williamson

I was amazed when he actually responded. He included a photo (clothed, showing his face). He was 6’ tall or taller. His head was shaved! Wow! It made him appear really tough. He was muscular, but he also had a bit of a belly. He seemed 100% masculine and 100% dominant. Gulp!

boy,

Sure, I’ll slap a monitor around your ankle and keep you home where you belong. This isn’t a game. Once we agree on the rules, if you violate them, there will be consequences. The consequences will be both physical and financial. There’s a $100 setup fee, a $25 weekly maintenance fee (paid upfront, 4 weeks at a time), and a $100 deposit. If you cut the strap, you forfeit the deposit. If you violate your parole, a violation fee will be subtracted from your deposit. You’ll need to replenish your deposit back up to $100 at the end of each week. Nice to know you don’t expect anything from me sexually; however, I DO expect certain sexual favors from you. You WILL suck my cock, I WILL fuck your boy hole, and you WILL rim me whenever I want. If this is not acceptable to you, PISS OFF! Don’t contact me again! If this is acceptable, we’ll set up a meeting at your place. You’ll pay me $300 cash, I’ll secure a monitor to your ankle, we’ll discuss the conditions of your parole, you’ll kiss my balls, and I’ll leave. As your parole officer, I have the right to unexpectedly drop in at any time. At the end of four weeks, you’ll either pay $100 for another four weeks and replenish your deposit, or I’ll cut off your monitor, refund any deposit you have left, and you can PISS OFF! You don’t need to know my name, since you will only address me as Sir.

Sir

Wow! What an asshole! Who does he think he is? I’m not a “boy,” I’m a grown man! What are the “physical” consequences of violating my parole? How dare he think I’m just some sex doll to use whenever he wants. Fuck you, buddy! Why is my cock so hard?

I continued to search the social networking sites. No one else even bothered to respond. I had a choice to make. I could either forget the whole idea and never get my novel written, or I could contact that asshole.

I contacted the asshole. Look, I really want to get this novel written, okay? He’s on his way over now. I’m so nervous I’m shaking. I’m about to be put on parole like a common criminal. My only crime is wanting to finish my novel.

The doorbell rings and I open the door.

“Hello, boy!” he says, in a deep, loud, booming voice. Jeesh, what if the neighbors hear? Why is he calling me a ‘boy’? Yeah, he’s more like 6’ 2”. He’s MUCH bigger in person. He has a very large presence. It kinda makes me weak in the knees. He’s carrying a briefcase. He’s wearing a wide belt with a handcuff pouch on it. Are those handcuffs for me?

“Hello, Sir,” I say quietly and politely. Perhaps he’ll take the hint and lower his volume. I smile and continue, “Won’t you please come in, Sir?” Where you’ll be inside and the neighbors can’t hear you. Stop calling me ‘boy’!

Sir steps in and closes the door behind him.

“Strip, boy!” he says loudly.

Huh? What? This catches me completely off guard.

“Don’t just stand there, boy. Get out of those clothes! You wouldn’t get any privacy in prison and you won’t get any with me either.”

“Ye...s, Sir,” I say. The nerve of this guy, telling me to remove my clothes! I start removing my clothes. Why? I could just refuse. But he’s right. I’m a parolee. He’s my parole officer. If he wants me naked, I get naked. Finally, I’m standing before him completely naked.

“That’s better, boy. Now there’s no question which one of us is the parole officer and which one of us is the parolee. Go get me a glass of water, boy.”

How rude! Well, I guess I should be hospitable to my parole officer. I quickly run to fetch a glass of water for my new PO. I return and hand it to him.

“Where do you usually sit in this room, boy?” he says, taking a sip of water.

“My recliner, Sir, right over there,” I say pointing a shaking finger at it.

“Then that’s where I’ll sit.” Sir saunters over and sits in my chair (MY chair!). Why does this guy need to be so rude? Really, the nerve of this guy has no boundaries. Why is it turning me on?

I sit down on the sofa next to the recliner.

“What are you doing, boy?” 

“I’m s...sitting down, Sir?” I answer meekly. After all, you’re sitting in MY recliner!

“Not there you’re not, boy. Sit on the floor!” 

The floor! Why should I sit on the floor! This is MY home! This guy is really pissing me off! He’s also really hot! I get up, completely embarrassed, and take my place on the floor in front of him. Who does this guy think he is?

“Do you have my money, boy?”

“Yes, Sir.” I crawl over to my pants on the floor, pull out my wallet, and grab the $300. “Here it is, Sir.” I crawl back and hand him the money.

He quickly counts it.

“Good, boy.” He bends over and opens his briefcase. There’s an ankle monitor inside. My heart jumps when I hear him say ‘Good, boy.’ Why?

He pulls out the ankle monitor and a cutting tool. That’s the same monitor that will soon be locked around my ankle. I won’t be able to remove it. My freedom will be gone. I’ll be a parolee. My cock is pointing straight up.

“I’ve already charged your monitor, boy, so it’s ready for you.” He shows me how the power light is green, the GPS light is green and the Zone light is red.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome, boy! Now let’s have that right leg of yours, boy.” He holds his left hand out to receive my right leg. Crap! I can still back out. He can keep the $300. I can keep my freedom.

Instinctively, I raise my right leg and place it in his big, strong hand. Nah, this is my parole officer. I need to trust him. He’ll take good care of me.

Sir holds up a small piece of plastic that he’s pulled from the suitcase.

“This is a pin tray, boy. I need to fit one end of the strap into this pin tray. Then I fit the pin tray into the monitor. It catches on a pin. Then I push in this tamper plug so you won’t be able to get to that pin, boy.”

I’m completely fascinated as he puts together the monitor that will soon take away my freedom.

“Yes, Sir. That looks great, Sir,” I manage to say. I’m so excited, I’m shaking all over. My cock is totally into my new ankle monitor.

Sir then takes the monitor and puts it up against my ankle. He wraps the strap around my ankle.

“This is where I fit the bracelet to your ankle, boy. You need to be able to move it around, but we don’t want it to slip off.” Sir marks a point on the strap and uses the cutting tool to cut the strap to the desired length.

“No, Sir, we don’t want it to fall off, Sir,” I repeat.

“Don’t you worry, boy. This bracelet won’t be falling off.”

Sir fits another pin tray on the other end of the strap. He puts in another tamper plug. 

“Your bracelet’s all set for your ankle, boy.” He wraps the strap around my ankle and presses it into a fitting in the monitor. I can tell it takes some force for the two pieces to fit together.

“Congratulations, boy! As of this moment, you’re a parolee!”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” I say as I extract my newly imprisoned ankle from his lap. I set my foot back down on the rug. I closely inspect my brand new ankle monitor. I’m suddenly proud of myself for following through with this. I’m going to get my novel done!

“Your monitor needs to charge for an hour every morning, boy. Don’t forget. I’d hate to have your monitor cease functioning and have you incur a violation.” He sets the charger on the table next to my recliner.

“Now we need to set your geofence, boy. I’m going to be logging on and entering some coordinates into the monitoring system. I just need you to walk around your place so I can set them up. Walk everywhere you might need to go in your house. After I set your fence, if you go outside the fence, it’ll be a violation, boy.” He opens a laptop that he pulls out of his briefcase. This guy is actually pretty professional.

“Yes, Sir,” I say as I hurry to the far corner of one room.

Sir carries his laptop and follows me into every nook and cranny of my home. I’m completely naked, showing Sir everywhere in my house. For some reason, it doesn’t seem weird at all. Sir is my parole officer and he needs to set up my geofence, or the boundaries of my home. We even go out into my garage. After we’ve been everywhere in my home where I might need to go, we head back to the living room.

“Okay boy,” Sir says, motioning me to sit on the floor, “have a seat.”

Sir again sits in my recliner with his laptop in his lap. I take my seat on the floor.

“Do you still work at all, boy? Any volunteer work? Any work-related reason for leaving your house?”

“No, Sir,” I reply. Sir makes a notation on his computer.

“What about church, boy. Do you attend church weekly?”

“No, Sir,” I reply. Another notation is made by Sir on his computer.

“On what day of the week would you want to go grocery shopping, boy?”

“I usually go every few days, Sir,” I answer.

“Not anymore. You will pick one day and time each week in which to accomplish your grocery shopping. I’ll give you 2 hours from the time you leave home to the time you return. You’ll also need to show me your receipt. Your receipt is proof you actually went grocery shopping and didn’t go anywhere else.”

Gulp! Wow, I hadn’t thought of going grocery shopping as being a privilege. Now it is. And I need to show him my receipt.

“How about Tuesdays at 9 AM, Sir,” I offer.

“Fine, boy. Leave no earlier than 9 AM and be back by 11 AM or you’ll have a violation, boy. Understood, boy?” Sir types something on this laptop.

“Yes, Sir, I understand, Sir.”

“How often do you need to do yardwork, boy?”

“I do some every few days, Sir,” I reply.

“Not anymore, boy. You’ll pick a day of the week and a start time, and I’ll give you 2 hours.”

“Yes, Sir. How about Wednesday’s at 9 AM, Sir?” I offer. Again, I never thought of doing yard work as a privilege.

“Okay, boy. You can be out in your yard from 9 AM to 11 AM on Wednesdays. Outside of that, it’s a violation. Got it, boy?” Sir types on his laptop again.

“Got it, Sir,” I reply respectfully.

“How often do you get your haircut, boy?”

“Once every five weeks, Sir,” I respond.

“Okay, you’ll need to ask me permission to get your haircut, boy. I’ll give you 2 hours to get there, get your haircut, and get back. You’ll need to keep your receipt, boy. I need to see proof that you got your haircut and where.” Sir enters more info into his laptop.

“Yes, Sir,” I reply. Wow! I need permission to get my haircut. My cock is loving this.

“If you need to go to the dentist, eye doctor, or other medical doctor, you’ll need to ask my permission. We’ll decide how much time to allow you away from home for each errand. You’ll need to bring back written proof that you were there.”

“Yes, Sir,” I reply. “Excuse me, Sir, may I still take walks?”

“Yes, boy. Although most department of corrections wouldn’t allow it, I allow my boys to get some exercise. I’ll allow you up to 2 hours a day. If you give me any crap, I’ll withdraw your exercise privileges, got it, boy?”

“Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir,” I reply. Okay, I can get in a good walk in two hours.

“What time do you want to go for your walks, boy?”

“Between 7 AM and 9 AM each day, Sir?” I ask.

“That’s fine, boy,” Sir says, as he updates his laptop.

“Is there any other reason you’d need to leave the house, parolee?” Sir asks.

“No, Sir,” I reply, “I believe we’ve covered everything.”

“Okay, boy. Now I’ll explain the rules. Your home is your cage. You are to remain in your cage at all times unless you have permission to leave. We’ve already determined a set schedule for your exercise time, your grocery shopping, and your yard work. For anything else, you’ll need my permission. Is that understood, boy?”

“Yes, Sir, I understand, Sir,” I reply. My cock continues to stand at attention.

“If you leave your cage without permission, you will have a violation. If you return to your cage within 1 minute, that’s a minor violation. It will cost you $5 and 5 swats with the paddle. A regular violation occurs when you don’t return to your cage within 1 minute, but return within 10 minutes. Each regular violation will cost you $10 and 10 swats with the paddle. Any time you’re out of your cage more than 10 minutes without permission will be a serious violation. Each of those will cost you $20 and 20 swats from the paddle. I suggest you stay in your cage, or you will have a very sore butt, boy. Am I making myself clear, boy?”

“Ye...s, Sir. Paddle, Sir?” I ask meekly. He never said anything about a paddle.

Sir reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a heavy, thick wooden paddle. Gulp!

“Yes, boy. This paddle keeps boys in their cages where they belong. Boys who wander out of their cages are educated by applying this very paddle very forcefully against their bare behinds. It’s guaranteed to get any boy’s attention, even yours!” He then lifts the paddle with his right hand and brings it down forcefully on his left hand. WHAP! I flinch. Ouch! I picture that terrible paddle coming down on my sorry bare butt.

“I’ll stay in my cage, Sir!” I say quickly and sincerely.

“Oh, you’ll screw up, boy. You’re a boy, you can’t help it. But don’t you worry, I always carry my trusty paddle with me, and you’ll be corrected right away. After a while, and a very sore butt, you’ll learn to stay in your cage.”

“Yes, Sir,” I say sadly. I picture my butt blistered after that paddle has done its job.

“May I ask a question, Sir?” 

“Shoot, boy.”

“May I have visitors, Sir?”

“Absolutely, boy. The department of corrections would require you to have your visitors sign in, but I don’t care who visits you, boy. They can stay as long as you’d like, they can even spend the night. Just don’t let them coax you out of your cage, boy!”

“No, Sir. I won’t let them do that, Sir. May I ask another question, Sir?”

“Go ahead, boy.”

“Why are you calling me a boy? I’m 66 years old, Sir. Aren’t I a man?”

“You are definitely not a man, boy. A man would have the self-discipline to stay home and work on his novel. You are a boy. Boys need a real man to control them. You need control. You need to be a parolee. You need a real man to ensure you don’t leave home without permission. You’ve found that man in me, boy. I’m your parole officer, I’m your Sir. For the next four weeks, you will stay in your cage or face the consequences. I AM your discipline that you don’t have, boy.” Sir packs his laptop and paddle back into his briefcase and closes it. Then he stands up. He towers over me in my place on the floor.

There’s a small part of me that’s yelling, ‘This is wrong! Tell him to get out! You ARE a man!’ But, sadly, I know that’s not true. He’s absolutely right. A man wouldn’t need a parole officer to keep him home so he could work on his novel. I need this man to control me.

“Every boy has what I call an internal parent. That internal parent doesn’t exert enough influence to control the inner boy. However, it can get in the way. When your internal parent tells you that you don’t need a parole officer, I urge you to tell it to shut up. Once you stop my services, boy, I’m gone for good. I’m not coming back. You’ll be left to your own devices. Do you understand, boy?”

“My internal parent, Sir?” I ask skeptically.

“Yes, boy. That’s the voice inside your head that told you not to contact me. It told you that you’d have enough self-discipline to complete your novel. The problem is, it’s lying to you, boy. You know you need me to keep you home working on your novel. You’re a boy. You need my control. You got that, boy?”

“Got it, Sir,” I answer. 

“Get on your knees, boy.” I comply with very wide eyes. My cock doesn’t know what to think about not being a man.

“Unbuckle my belt, boy.”

With shaking hands, I unbuckle his belt.

“Unbutton my trousers, boy, then unzip them.”

I unbutton his pants and unzip his zipper.

“Pull down my pants, boy.”

I carefully pull down his pants over his boxers. His cock is getting hard, stretching the fabric of the boxers.

“Pull down my boxers, boy.”

I pull down his boxers and his cock bounces in my face. He has a jungle of pubic hair above his cock. His balls hang down in a hairy scrotal sack. I catch a strong scent of man musk. Wow! This guy is all man!

He lifts his cock as it continues to get erect.

“You see my balls, boy?”

“Yes, Sir,” I say, completely mesmerized by how large and full they look.

“Stick your nose in my sack, boy. Get a whiff of what a real man smells like. I want to feel your nose breathing in the folds of my scrotum, boy. Keep your boy mouth shut.”

“Yes, Sir,” I say, as I stick my nose directly into those beautiful, hairy folds of skin. I breathe deeply and inhale the heady odor of ball sweat. I move my nose all around between the creases in his wonderful scrotal sack. I love the scent of his man musk. I want my whole face covered with it. I don’t know how long Sir allows me to nuzzle his sack, maybe five minutes?

“Now it’s time for you to kiss my testicles, boy. You’re going to kiss the testicles that control you, boy. You’re going to show your appreciation for the testicles that will keep you in your cage, boy. My balls are very different from those silly little boy nuts that you have dangling under your useless boy nub. These balls belong to a real man, a real man that has the balls to control boys like you. When you kiss them, I want you to pucker up around each one and then stick out your tongue and lick a little sweat off it, boy. You will kiss each one of my balls 10 times and you will count each kiss. Can you do that, boy?”

“Yes, Sir,” I say with gratitude. Why do I want to kiss this man’s balls so badly?

I plant my lips on his left testicle. I gently suck in while I extend my tongue to lick my parole officer’s gonad. “One, Sir,” I say, savoring the salty taste of his ball sweat as my tongue retreats back into my mouth.

“Look up at me while you kiss my balls, boy,” Sir commands.

I look up into his face as I move in for my second kiss. After French kissing his left ball a second time, I say, “Two, Sir.” I continue kissing his left testicle until I’ve given it 10 kisses. Then I move to his right testicle. I kiss it 10 times as well. I’m rock hard the whole time.

“Okay, boy. You haven’t earned my cock yet. Give the head of my dick a nice kiss goodbye and pull up my boxers.”

I kiss the purple mushroom head of his erect member. God, I want to suck it so badly! I become sad as I pull up his boxers, covering his wonderful penis with cloth.

“Pull up my pants, boy.”

I pull up his pants until they’re sat on his waist.

“Button and zip up my pants, boy.”

I struggle to button his button since he has a slight paunch. I zip up his zipper.

“Buckle my belt, boy.”

I re-buckle his belt.

“Okay, boy. It’s Monday morning. Stay in your cage until tomorrow morning at 7 AM. Then you can take your walk. At 9 AM you may leave and go to the grocery store. Be back home by 11 AM or face a violation. You will only hear from me if you violate your parole. Sometime next week, I’ll return. I’ll come unannounced. I will paddle your ass for all of your violations from the previous week. Your ass will be very sore. I may give you the honor of licking mine. You will also give me enough cash to return your deposit amount back to $100. Do you have any questions, boy?”

“What if I don’t have any violations, Sir?” I ask innocently.

“Boy, you will definitely have violations. It’s impossible for a boy to stay properly caged initially. After I beat your ass for a few weeks, you will begin to learn. After 6 weeks or so, most boys begin to get the message. But these first few weeks will be very painful for you, boy. Just be prepared.”

“May I call you to ask permission to get my haircut or something?” I ask.

“Just send me a message, boy. And do it at least a week ahead of time. I’ll let you know if I approve of your errand. Obviously, if there’s an emergency, just call 911. They’ll cut off your bracelet and you’ll lose your deposit, but there won’t be any other penalties.”

Sir walks over to the front door, puts his hand on the handle, and turns to look back at me, still naked and sitting on the floor, with an ankle monitor strapped to my leg.

“You have a very nice cage here, boy. If I had the facilities, you’d be in a 5’ x 7’ cell that you’d be sharing with another boy. Oh well, we can’t have everything. Enjoy your cage, boy! You can get dressed as soon as I walk out this door. Goodbye, boy.”

Sir pulls open the door and walks out, closing it behind him. I look down at the monitor attached to my leg. The power button is a steady green. The GPS is green and blinks at times, probably verifying that I’m in my ‘cage’. The zone light is a solid green.

I move the monitor up and down my leg. This is so cool! I know that this ankle bracelet is actually imprisoning me, but I love it. I move it up my calf as far as it will go. Then I push it down so it’s resting on my ankle. My cock is begging for attention. Boy nub? I think not! This is a man’s cock! I cup my balls. Boy nuts? Heck no! These are testicles and they’re full of cum. Cum that needs to be released right about now.

I jump up and head upstairs to my bedroom. I grab some lube and start jerking. God, this feels so good. I feel my parole officer’s ankle bracelet on my ankle. My parole officer has me! I’m under his control! I can’t escape without him knowing! This is so awesome! My hand is a blur as I pump it up and down my erect penis. Oh heck, yeah. I can still smell his ball sweat on my face. He’s an awesome man, and he has taken away my freedom. Thank you, Sir! I’m going to be a good boy and stay caged just like you said.

I feel my balls start to contract, and a healthy load of cum squeezes out of them, up my shaft, and onto my stomach. God, this feels so good. I lie on my bed, completely spent. I scoop up my cum with my finger and feed it to myself. Ah, nice and creamy and salty. I wonder what my parole officer’s cum tastes like. I hope I get to find out soon.

I go back downstairs and get dressed. I put my sock between my new bracelet and my bare leg. Then I go back upstairs to my office and begin to work on my novel. Lord knows there’s nothing else to do!

* * * * *

I work away until 5 PM. Then I go out to my mailbox at the end of my drive and get my mail. I just get back inside when my cell phone rings. It’s my parole officer!

“Hello, boy!” 

“Hello, Sir. What can I do for you, Sir?” I ask completely confused as to why he might be calling me.

“Well, for starters, you can stay in your cage, boy!”

“Excuse me, Sir? I haven’t left my property once, Sir,” I say confidently.

“Boy! Don’t lie to me! Your monitor just recorded a violation! You stepped outside your cage for something!”

“Oh, I just went out to grab my mail, Sir. My mailbox is just at the end of my drive. I was only out for a few seconds, Sir,” I defend myself.

“Boy! You are caged! You can’t step outside for even one second without permission! Pick up your frickin mail when you return from your walk in the morning, boy!” 

“Oh, of course, Sir. I’m so sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble,” I apologize.

“The only trouble you’re causing is for your own butt. I’m deducting $5 from your deposit and you will be receiving 5 wallops from my paddle when I visit next week. Do you understand, boy?”

“But Sir, this was an honest mistake. I’m really very sorry. I promise it won’t happen again, Sir,” I beg.

“Listen, boy. I don’t want to hear any of your whining. You know the rules. If you exit your cage without permission, you get penalized. I already know you’re sorry, boy. But you’ll be much, MUCH sorrier after you receive your wallops from my paddle. Your sore ass will help you remember to stay in your cage!”

“Please, Sir! Please don’t paddle me! I’ll pay more money, I’ll do anything, Sir. Please, Sir!” I plead. I’m on the verge of tears. I haven’t been spanked since I was a kid. This is so embarrassing!

“Boy! There is only one thing you can do to avoid my paddle.”

“What’s that, Sir?” I ask hopefully.

“You can cut off your ankle monitor, put it, and your charger inside a box labeled “Parole Officer” and set it out on your front porch. You forfeit all monies paid me, but I promise you’ll never hear or see me ever again, boy. I promise I won’t paddle you. Is that what you want, boy?”

“No, Sir. I need you to be my parole officer, Sir. I accept my punishment for violating my parole, Sir,” I say morosely. I worked all day long on my novel! My parole officer is helping me. If I have to be paddled, so be it!

“That’s what I like to hear, boy! A boy accepting his punishment. It won’t be all bad, boy. I promise I’ll allow you the pleasure of licking my nice, sweaty, stinking ass. Your tongue will be right up my shithole where it belongs, boy. So you have that to look forward to after your paddling. Sound good, boy?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” I reply sadly. Do I really want to lick that man’s butt? Do I want to stick my tongue in his rectum?

“Well, that’s all for now, boy. Stay in your cage, boy! Don’t go outside for anything at all! Pretend you’re in a cell, boy. A nice, big, luxurious cell, but a prison cell just the same. When you look at one of your doors that lead outside, I want you to see a prison cell door with bars. When you look out a window, I want you to see bars on your windows. You’re in prison, boy! You’re caged! Get used to it!”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” I say sadly.

“Good night, boy.”

“Good night, Sir,” I say and disconnect the call.

I can’t believe I’m going to get my ass paddled. This really sucks! I didn’t even make it through the whole first day without a violation. 

I take a shower before bed. The monitor didn’t cause me any problems. I was able to clean under it and around it. The indicator lights never showed any problem at all.

* * * * *

It’s Tuesday morning. Sleeping with an ankle bracelet takes a bit of getting used to. I tossed and turned all night. I dreamed that a snake wrapped itself around my ankle and wouldn’t let go. 

I took my morning walk. It was great to get out of the house and enjoy some fresh air. Thank you, parole officer! The monitor didn’t cause me any problems on my walk at all. I think some folks on the path noticed my monitor, but no one said anything. 

I knew that I’d already gotten my mail yesterday afternoon, so I didn’t need to grab it as I walked back into the house. I got back at 8:45 AM. So no problem there.  I’ll wait until after 9 AM and go to the store.

* * * * *

Crap! I ran into a friend at the store. He wanted to know all about my monitor. I told him a “friend” had installed it on me and was helping me ensure I stay at home and work on my novel. I could tell he didn’t believe me. What kind of a friend is going to install an ankle bracelet on someone? I’m sure he thinks I got a DUI. Whatever! The important thing is, I made it back home by 10:40 AM. So no violation for me. Hurrah!

* * * * *

Crap! I glanced down at my monitor tonight and noticed that the power light was flashing red. I was supposed to charge it this morning and completely forgot! I immediately plugged in the charger. I’ve decided to charge it at night from now on. I’ll lie in bed reading while it’s charging. I can make this work! I set an alarm on my cell phone to remind me to charge it.

* * * * *

It’s Wednesday morning. I slept better last night. There weren’t any snakes in my dreams, thank God!

I take my morning walk and remember to get the mail on my way back into the house. Made it back by 8:50 AM.

I go out into my yard just after 9 AM. I mow the grass, I pull a few weeds. I get to work taking out a dead stump. I’m working along, and all of a sudden my cell phone goes off. I glance down and see that it’s my parole officer. Crap! I check the time. It’s 11:07 AM! I was supposed to be back in my cage by 11 AM! I drop everything and rush back inside. Then I answer my cell phone.

“Boy! What the heck are you doing? Why weren’t you back in your cage by 11 AM, boy?”

“I was really stupid, Sir. I got involved taking out a stump and forgot about the time, Sir. I should have set my cell phone alarm, but I forgot. I deserve to have my ass paddled, Sir,” I admit.

“Don’t you worry, boy. Your ass will get paddled sometime next week. You now owe me 15 smacks with the paddle, boy. You’ll also need to cough up $15 when I visit.”

“Yes, Sir. No problem at all, Sir. I’ll have your money and I’ll offer my ass up to your paddle upon your arrival, Sir,” I state. Why is my cock getting hard? Getting my ass beat isn’t going to be sexy at all.

“That’s what I like to hear, boy! A boy taking responsibility for his actions and accepting his punishment. Good boy! My paddle is guaranteed to help you remember to set that alarm, boy.”

“Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir,” I say.

“Stay in your cage, boy! Stop violating your probation! Stop earning wallops from my paddle!”

“Yes, Sir, I’ll stay in my cage, Sir,” I offer.

“Have a good rest of your day, boy. Goodbye.”

“Thank you, Sir. You too, Sir. Goodbye, Sir,” I reply.

Crap! Another 10 wallops from that paddle. I’m not going to be able to sit down! I’m VERY angry with myself. How simple is it to set a cell phone alarm to remind me to get back inside? Jeesh!

* * * * *

I’ve made it to Sunday! Just got back in from my walk. There haven’t been any further violations. I’ve been working diligently on my novel. I believe I’m making good progress. Sometimes, I look wistfully out of a window. I wish I could go outside. But then I wouldn’t be working on my novel. Plus, this isn’t forever. I can quit in three weeks if I want! Then I can go wherever I want, whenever I want.

* * * * *

It’s Tuesday, the second week. Crap! Major, major, major problem. I’m stuck in traffic trying to get home from the store. There’s an accident up ahead. It’s 11:05 AM. I should have been home 5 minutes ago! My cell phone rings. You know who it is already.

“Boy! Why aren’t you back in your cage?”

“I’m sorry, Sir. I’m stuck in traffic. There’s an accident up ahead,” I attempt to defend myself.

“Didn’t you check your phone for accidents before you took that way home, boy? Is there only one route that will get you home?”

“No, Sir. I didn’t think to check for accidents, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir. I let you down, Sir,” I apologize.

“Apologize to your ass, boy. It’s going to have to endure 20 licks of my paddle by the time you get home. You’ll also owe me $20, boy. But this is on next week’s tab. When I show up this week, you still only owe me 15 licks and $15 from last week’s violations, boy.”

“Thank you, Sir, I understand, Sir,” I say sadly. “I’ll get back in my cage as soon as I possibly can, Sir.”

“Okay, boy. I’m tracking you. Get back in your cage!”

“Yes, Sir. But it might be another 10 minutes, Sir. I’m very sorry, Sir,” I apologize again.

“All right, boy. I’ll be watching. Goodbye, boy.”

“Goodbye, Sir. Sorry for the trouble, Sir,” I say as the call disconnects.

Crap! I need to start thinking and planning ahead! There’s no excuse for me being out of my cage.

I don’t get home until 11:20 AM. Good thing I’m not really on parole, I’d be back in jail!

* * * * *

It’s Wednesday afternoon during my second week on parole. My doorbell rings. It’s my parole officer! I open the door.

“Hello, boy!”

“Hello, Sir! Please come in, Sir,” I motion for him to enter. He enters carrying his briefcase, and I shut the door.

“Strip, boy!”

“Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir,” I answer quickly. I immediately remove all my clothing.

“That bracelet looks good on you, boy! It was made for you!”

“Yes, Sir, I’m getting used to it, Sir,” I reply.

“Do you have my money, boy?” 

“Yes, Sir,” I say as I bend over and pull my wallet out of my pants’ pocket. I remove $15 and hand it to him.

“Thank you, boy. Your deposit has been replenished until next week.”

“Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir,” I answer.

Sir opens his briefcase and removes that terrible wooden paddle that’s going to destroy my ass. “Let’s have you bend over one of your dining room chairs for your whupping, boy.”

“Yes, Sir.” We move to my dining room. I pull out a chair away from the table.

“Do you need me to handcuff you, boy? I don’t want you trying to interfere with your paddling. This paddle might break your fingers.”

“Yes, please Sir. I’m afraid I won’t be able to help myself, Sir,” I say sadly.

“Okay, boy. Stick out your paws.” 

I hold out my hands. He removes a pair of handcuffs from a pocket on his belt. He deftly slaps the cuffs onto my wrists. He pulls out a key and double locks them. My cock is totally into being handcuffed.

“Okay, boy. Turn around and bend over.”

“Yes, Sir,” I say as I turn around and bend over the back of the chair. My hands grip the edge of the chair’s seat.

“Okay, boy. You owe me 15 wallops with the paddle. Count them out, boy.”

I hear something swish through the air, and then I feel that hard, wooden paddle slam into my poor bare butt at full force. WHOMP!

“Ow!!!” I yell. “One!” My butt feels as if it’s been stung by a hundred bees. Instinctively, my hands try to jerk back to cover my poor, defenseless butt. Thank God the handcuffs stop them. The metal cuffs dig into my wrists. 

WHOMP!

“Ow!!!” I howl. “Two!” The stingers on all the bees have been pushed all the way into my butt. My wrists hurt from trying to fight the cuffs.

WHOMP!

“Ow!!!” I shriek. “Three!” Now my bottom feels as if I’ve sat on a stove burner.

WHOMP!

“Ow!!!” I cry. “Four!” My eyes are watering and tears are starting to flow. My heinie is still on the stove and the heat’s been turned up.

WHOMP!

“Ow!!” I moan. “Five!” I’m crying. The stove is searing my rear end.

WHOMP!

“Ow!” I’m whimpering now. “Six.” My rump’s being roasted over an open fire.

WHOMP!

“Ouch,” slips out between sobs. “Seven.” I feel blisters raising on my backside.

WHOMP!

“Ooch,” I sob. “Eight.” The blisters are being broken by the paddle.

WHOMP!

“Oh,” I cry. “Nine.” My bum is shredded.

WHOMP!

“Ten,” I sob. I can’t think about my butt anymore, it’s on fire.

WHOMP!

“Eleven,” I moan quietly.

WHOMP!

“Twelve,” I eek out.

WHOMP!

“Thir....teen,” I squeak.

WHOMP!

“Four....teen,” I wail.

WHOMP!

“Fif....teen,” I snivel. I’m sobbing. Snot is running out of my nose. I’m a complete mess.

“Okay, boy. It’s okay. It’s all over. You’ve received your punishment. Stand up and turn around, boy.”

I stand up and turn around. I’m wailing.

Sir puts his big arms around me and draws me into him. I’m going to get snot on his shirt. I can’t remember ever sobbing so hard.

“There, there, boy. It’s okay. All’s forgiven. My paddle will get through to you, boy.”

Sir straightens up, puts both of his hands on my shoulders, looks me straight in the eyes, and says, “Are you going to stay in your cage, boy?”

“Oh, yes Sir! I’m going to stay in my cage, Sir! I’m not leaving for anything, Sir!” I blurt out between sobs.

“That’s a good boy.” Then he draws me into another hug.

I don’t know how long he hugs me, but I start to settle down after a few minutes. 

“Let’s get these cuffs off you, boy.” He pulls out his key and removes my handcuffs. I just stand there crying.

“I put a lot of effort into paddling your ass, boy. I expect a proper thank you, boy.”

“Oh, yes Sir! Thank you for paddling my ass, Sir. Thank you for teaching me to stay in my cage.”

“You’re welcome, boy! But there’s a better way for you to show your appreciation, boy.”

“Of course, Sir. Anything you want, Sir,” I blurt out. Tears are still running down my face.

“I want to feel your face between my ass cheeks, boy. I want to feel that tongue of yours massaging my shithole. Would you like to thank me properly, boy?”

Inside me, a small part of me wants to yell, ‘Heck no I don’t want to smell your sweaty, stinky, hairy ass!’ But another part of me is grateful for this man’s control over me. He’s going to keep me in my cage working on my novel. The paddling was overwhelmingly painful, but I realize it’s for my own good. I’ll remember the pain of this paddling for a long time. I won’t even think of leaving my cage without permission.

“Yes, Sir. I want to thank you properly, Sir,” I answer.

“Lay down on the floor, boy.”

“Yes, Sir,” I answer. I gingerly get down on the floor. Ouch! My bottom hurts so bad! I quickly lay down so I’m not sitting on it.

Sir takes off his trousers, folds them, and lays them neatly over the chair I was just spanked over. Then he removes his shirt and drapes that over the chair. I gasp as I see his chest covered in curly gray hair. He’s such a man! Then he removes his boxers and throws them over the chair. His beautiful cock is erect. I really want to suck that cock!

Sir turns to face away from me, straddles me, and squats down so his large hairy rear end is on my chest just inches from my face. Wow. This man has a large butt! I can already smell his crack sweat and man musk. My cock has sprang to attention in spite of all the pain in my rear. His lower legs are pinning my arms to my sides.

“Now, I’m going to take a seat on your face, boy. I want you to keep your boy mouth shut and breathe in and out through your nose, boy. I want you to inhale my sweaty man musk and ass stink. A boy needs to learn to worship his Sir’s ass properly. This is your first lesson.”

Sir backs up and plants his sweaty ass right on my face, burying my nose and mouth in his hairy crack. I’m afraid I’m going to smother. My arms struggle to defend me, but they’re trapped under his lower legs. The smell is overpowering! The man musk and stench causes my head to swim. I find that I can still breathe, it’s just that every time I inhale, I take in more of this man’s rank crack odor. It’s completely humiliating. This guy is using my face as his seat!

Then I calm down, stop panicking, and just breathe normally with my face entombed in his crack. It’s not so bad. His man musk smells amazing! 

“Okay, boy. You’ve enjoyed my stinking ass long enough. Time to start licking. Start licking my crack boy and my shithole will find your tongue.”

I hesitantly stick out my tongue and start licking his crack. My licker laps up his crack sweat and deposits it back in my mouth. I taste his salty sweat. As I lick, he maneuvers his asshole so it’s even with my tongue. I lap all around it.

“Okay, boy. Get your tongue in my hole, boy! I want that worthless tongue of yours to make love to my hole. Show me how much you appreciate me coming all the way over to your cage to wallop your ass, boy.”

My tongue dives into his hole. I move it all around. Part of me is yelling, ‘STOP! This is disgusting! Your tongue is up another man’s poop chute!’ But another part of me feels this is completely natural. I’m a parolee showing appreciation to my parole officer for correcting me. I left my cage without permission. My PO came over here and gave my ass a very hard paddling to ensure I wouldn’t do that again. He put a lot of effort into swinging that paddle so it would blister my bare bottom. He succeeded, my butt is blistered. I will remember his paddling every time I sit down for the next couple days. I will stay in my cage. I’m grateful to him for keeping me caged. I dive my tongue in deeper. I want to make him feel good. I move my tongue all around up inside his chute.

“That feels wonderful, boy. You’re a natural ass eater, boy! Who knew? Yeah, boy, move that tongue of yours all up around in there. This feels so good, boy. You’re doing an excellent job, boy!”

The more he praises me, the deeper I dig my tongue into his hole. I love eating this man’s ass! Thank you for letting me eat your ass, Sir!

I don’t know how long he allows me to eat his ass. I lose all track of time. But after a while, he removes his ass from my face. I instinctively dive forward to try to follow it.

“Okay, boy. Stay right where you are. There’s just one more thing I need you to do before I leave.”

He stands up, turns around, re-straddles me, and drops his hairy, sweaty ball sack in my face.

“Kiss each of my balls 10 times, boy. Count ‘em out like you did last week. Thank these testicles for controlling you and keeping you in your cage where you belong.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” I dutifully kiss each of his marvelous testicles 10 times, carefully counting as I go. I worship this man’s wonderful balls that control me when my own can’t.

“Okay, boy. Stay right where you are until I leave.” Sir puts on his boxers, shirt, and trousers. He re-buckles that masculine, wide duty belt of his with the built-in handcuff pouch. So sexy!

“Your ass will be very tender for the next couple of days, boy. My paddle blistered it really well for you. But don’t you worry, boy, it’ll be all healed up for next week’s paddling. So far, you’re down for 20 smacks next week. I suggest you stay safely in your cage unless you want even more, boy.”

He puts that awful paddle back in his briefcase and closes it. He walks to the front door and pulls it open.

“Goodbye, boy! See you sometime next week!”

“Goodbye, Sir!” I reply.

With that, he’s out the door and it closes behind him.

I carefully get up off the floor. Ouch! My butt has blisters! I walk into my downstairs bathroom to inspect the damage. Wow! There’s no blood, but my ass has broken blisters all over my lower buttocks and upper thighs. It’s cherry red. Sir’s paddle did a very thorough job of disciplining me. I need to stay in my cage!

I go upstairs to my bedroom and lie down on my bed. I feel my burning ass cheeks. I look down at my ankle bracelet. I move my leg so I can feel it contact the skin on my leg. My cock is loving this. Even the pain emanating from my butt! I grab some lube and pour it over my cock. I start jerking. I can still smell Sir’s ass on my face. I LOVE smelling his sweaty, musky ass. I LOVE sticking my tongue up his shithole. I LOVE kissing his large balls. I LOVE knowing I can’t go outside without Sir’s permission. I need to stay in my cage where I belong. Sir is always looking to ensure I stay in my cage. If I go out without permission, I’ll get the paddle! In no time at all, cum is shooting out of my piss slit, and all over my stomach. I eagerly scoop it up and gobble it down. Yum! I wish it were Sir’s cum!

I put some healing cream on my blistered butt. I decide it’s okay to take the rest of the day off from working on my novel. I lay on my bed, sore rump up, and read.

* * * * *

Thursday, I take my morning walk as usual. My bottom feels raw when I sit down to start to work on my novel. It reminds me how important it is for me to stay in my cage and obey my parole officer.

* * * * *

Friday, I get a call from my friends I go out to see movies with. I need to decline. I tell them I’m working on my novel. They laugh and tell me that I need to take a break. I tell them maybe next time. I realize I’m going to need to tell my friends the whole story if I want to continue past four weeks. I feel as if I need to come out of the closet again! Do I need to come out of the closet as a boy?

* * * * *

The rest of the week passes without any violations on my part. Except for my morning walks, I stay in my cage. I enjoy working on my novel. I feel I have a purpose and I’m working toward accomplishing my goal. I’m grateful my parole officer is helping me.

I love sleeping with my ankle bracelet strapped to my leg. I lie in bed and move my leg so I can feel the strap imprisoning it. I feel safe and protected wearing my ankle monitor. I know my parole officer knows exactly where I am, sleeping peacefully in my cage.

* * * * *

It’s Monday, at the start of my third week on parole. I was hoping my parole officer would come today. I’m not looking forward to my 20 licks of the paddle, but I am looking forward to worshipping my Sir.

* * * * *

It’s Tuesday and I made it back from the grocery store by 10:45 AM. I didn’t repeat the same mistake I made last week. Before I left for the store, I checked the traffic map on my phone for signs of construction or accidents. I did the same getting back home. Sir is right, I need to be a smart boy and plan ahead. I need to ensure nothing gets in the way of me getting back to my cage on time.

* * * * *

It’s Wednesday evening. I’m disappointed Sir didn’t come today. I know my ass will have blisters by the time he leaves, but I also know those blisters will help me remember to stay right here in my cage where I belong. Before I went out to work in my yard, I set my cell phone alarm for 10:50 AM. That way, I was sure to return to my cage before 11 AM.

* * * * *

It’s Thursday morning. After my walk, I get a call from a friend who always plans for a group of us to go out to a restaurant for dinner. They’re making plans for tomorrow night. I need to decline. He asks me if this has anything to do with the ankle bracelet I’m wearing. Crap! Word travels fast. I tell him, yes, it does, but it’s not what he thinks. He assures me that it’s okay, we all make mistakes. I know I’m going to need to tell all of them if I decide to continue beyond four weeks. Crap! I’m so embarrassed I need another man to control me in order to keep working on my novel. None of them are into BDSM in any way. I promise him that I’ll have a dinner party and tell everyone the whole story then. Crap! I feel trapped!

Now it’s Thursday afternoon. My doorbell rings. I really hope it’s my parole officer, here to give me my paddling. It is!

“Hello, boy.” My parole officer barges in my front door like he owns the place.

“Hello, Sir,” I smile as he comes through the door. He’s wearing black work boots today. Why do I want to kiss them?

“Strip, boy.”

“Yes, Sir,” I say as I quickly shed my clothes. This time I take $20 out of my wallet before dropping it and my pants to the floor. Once I’m naked, I hand the $20 to Sir.

“Thank you, boy! You haven’t had any violations yet this week. If you stay in your cage, you won’t owe me anything next week.

“Yes, Sir. I hope to stay in my cage, Sir,” I answer.

“Well, let’s get your paddling out of the way, boy. Go bend over your dining room chair like you did last time. Shall I cuff you again, boy?”

“Yes, Sir. Please cuff me, Sir,” I reply. I stick my hands out in front of me. 

Sir deftly removes his cuffs from his duty belt and has my hands secured and cuffs double-locked in a few seconds. He then retrieves that terrible paddle from his briefcase.

He follows behind me as I move into the dining room, pull out a chair, and bend over it.

“As I recall, boy, you’re getting paddled for not checking the traffic when you left the grocery store last week. You ran right into a traffic jam.”

“Yes, Sir. It was really stupid of me not to check the traffic map before leaving the store, Sir. I’m sure my blistered butt will remind me to always check the traffic map, Sir,” I admit.

“I’m sure it will, boy. Well, I guess we’ll get this over with.”

WHOMP!

“One,” I gasp. That first wallop really takes my breath away.

WHOMP!

“Two!” I yell. My butt reminds me that Sir’s paddlings really hurt!

WHOMP!

“Three!” I howl. I can’t get used to this level of pain. This is excruciating!

WHOMP!

“Four!” I yelp. 

WHOMP!

“Five!” I scream. There’s a fire burning my butt now.

WHOMP!

“Six!” I cry. My poor butt is roasting.

WHOMP!

“Se....ven!” I moan.

WHOMP!

“Eight!” I squeal.

WHOMP!

“Nine!” I wail. Tears are flowing down my face.

WHOMP!

“Ten!” I holler. I’m crying uncontrollably.

“Okay, boy, that’s half of them.” I feel Sir’s hand rubbing my poor bare buttocks. It feels as if all the skin’s been removed. I just keep crying. Maybe he’ll take pity on me.

WHOMP!

“Ow!!! Ele...ven” I cry. “This really hurts, Sir,” I manage to say.

“It’s supposed to hurt, boy. Learn to stay in your cage!”

WHOMP!

“Oh!! Twelve” I moan. 

WHOMP!

“Ouch! Thir...teen,” I wail.

WHOMP!

“Ooch! Four...teen,” I whimper.

WHOMP!

“Ow, Fif...teen,” I whine.

“Only five more, boy.” Sir’s hand rubs my sore rump again. My butt feels as if acid has been poured on it.

WHOMP!

“Oh, Six...teen,” I say, I’m running out of breath I’m crying so hard.

WHOMP!

“Ow, Sev...en...teen,” I blurt out between sobs.

WHOMP!

“Ow, Eigh...teen,” I sob.

WHOMP!

“Oh, Nine...teen,” I wail.

WHOMP!

“Oh, Twen...ty,” I moan. I’m sobbing uncontrollably.

“Okay, boy. You’ve paid the penalty for your stupidity. Let me get those cuffs off you.”

I stand up, turn around, and present my hands so he can remove my cuffs. I just stand there bawling as he removes them. He brings me into a hug and I hug him back.

“Thank you for disciplining me, Sir,” I say between sobs.

“You’re welcome, boy! It’s what you need. But I have an even better way for you to thank me, boy.”

“Yes, Sir?” I ask.

Sir starts taking off his clothes. Soon he’s completely naked just like me.

“First of all, boy, I’m gonna bend over your paddling chair and you’re gonna kiss my ass to thank me for blistering yours.” He bends over my chair.

“Yes, Sir,” I kneel down and kiss both of his hairy ass cheeks.

“Now I want you to massage my hole with your tongue like you did last week, boy.”

“Yes, Sir,” I answer. I part his fleshy ass cheeks, find his hole, and dig my tongue right in there. I need to thank him for my paddling. I move my tongue all around to ensure I give his hole a nice massage.

“Okay, boy, it’s ball kissing time.” Sir stands back up and turns around. His beautiful erect cock is sticking straight up. 

I move in and gently kiss each of his marvelous balls ten times. I count each kiss.

“My balls might be kinda sweaty, boy. Lick all that sweat off them, boy.”

“Yes, Sir,” I say eagerly. I start lapping away. His balls are nice and salty with sweat. I love helping him keep his balls nice and clean. I love the feeling as I raise one of his testicles up with my tongue and lap at his ball sack underneath. I have to remove a few hairs from my mouth while I’m licking him, but who cares?

“Okay, boy, I guess you’ve earned my cock. Go ahead and swallow my cock, boy.”

I zealously devour his cock. I take it all the way in until it’s poking the back of my throat. I love the taste of his cock. My nose is buried in his pubic hair jungle. I take a deep breath to inhale his man musk. God, he smells so good! He smells like a man! He smells nice and strong and musky. I can’t get enough of his scent.

Then he puts his hands on the back of my head and starts using my mouth like a fuck doll. He keeps ramming his cock down my throat. I breathe whenever I can. I stick out my tongue to lick his balls every time he thrusts into my throat. His head feels great punching the back of my throat.

Suddenly, he tenses up. “Oh fuck, boy, I’m cumming. I’m going to cum right in your mouth, boy!”

I gladly await his gift of cum. I don’t need to wait long. Thankfully, he backs his cock up a bit so his spurts land in my mouth instead of down my throat. My mouth is filled with his warm, creamy, salty essence. Oh God, this is amazing! My Sir’s cum is filling my mouth! I don’t want to swallow! I want to keep it in my mouth and savor it all day.

I’m careful to suck all the cum out of his head. I don’t want to leave any behind! Eventually, I swallow his gift of cum.

“Well, what do you know, boy? You’re a pretty good cocksucker! And you’re a great ass licker, too! I’m glad you’re my parolee, boy. Good job, boy!”

I melt with his praise. I’m so happy! I don’t care that my ass is covered with blisters. I just want to make this man happy. I’m so happy he’s my parole officer.

He quickly gets dressed.

“Thank you for letting me suck your cock, Sir,” I say enthusiastically.

“You’re welcome, boy! It probably won’t be the last time, either. If you decide to go for another four weeks, I want to fuck your little boy hole. I want my cum deep inside you, boy. I want to claim your hole, boy.”

“Yes, Sir. Please fuck me, Sir,” I beg.

“Next week, you’ll need to tell me if you plan to renew for another four weeks, boy. If you do, you’ll need to pay me another $100. If not, I’ll show up on Monday of week five, cut off your bracelet, and return your deposit money. Then I’ll walk out that door and you’ll never see or hear from me again. If you try to contact me, I’ll ignore you. Is that clear, boy?”

“Yes, Sir,” I say sadly, thinking about never seeing my parole officer again. My home would no longer be a cage, just a boring old home. The bars would be gone from the windows and doors. My leg would no longer wear my parole officer’s bracelet. I need to think about this.

Sir saunters over to the front door, turns the handle, and opens it.

“Goodbye, boy! Stay in your cage, boy!”

“Yes, Sir. I will, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” I say.

And then, he’s gone.

My butt assures me that he was here and that it got paddled very hard. It’s covered in blisters again. Crap! It’s really hard to sit down and work on my novel when it feels like my butt’s on fire.

I hurry upstairs to my bedroom. I carefully lie down on my bed. I remember burying my face in Sir’s ass and licking his lovely puckered hole. I remember his cock thrusting into my mouth. I remember his man-scent as my nose was buried in his pubic hair. I feel his bracelet around my leg. It doesn’t take long for me to shoot my load all over my belly. It feels so good being his parolee! But what do I do about my friends? Crap!

* * * * *

I make it through the rest of the week without a violation. The next time Sir shows up, I won’t get paddled! But I need to tell him if I want to remain on parole another 4 weeks. That, and pay him $100. I decide to make a list of the pros and cons of staying on parole.

Pros:

●      I get to continue to worship my parole officer (lick his ass, lick his balls, suck his cock, and get fucked by him).

●      I will continue to work on my novel. I’ve made good progress since I’ve been forced to stay in my cage.

Cons:

●      I will need to inform my friends that I am a boy. I have a parole officer who is ensuring I stay home. I love having another man control me. Many friends won’t understand.

●      I will continue to be stuck at home. I can’t go out to movies or out to dinner with friends. I can have them over, though.

So, what do you think I’ll do reader?

THE END (for now)